Tabula Rasa
by ghosteye99
Summary: One small discovery leads to life-turning events, and not just for one Starfleet Admiral. C/7 to J/C. Set in the Post-Nemesis/post-Endgame future.
1. Prologue: Incursion

**Title:** Tabula Rasa – Prologue: Incursion

**Author:** Ghosteye99

**Main Characters:** OC's, Miral Paris (implied background Janeway/Chakotay)

**Theme:** Family/Drama/Angst

**Rating:** PG 13+ (T)

**Summary:** Years after Voyager's return, someone plans to change the ships past to give her loved ones a future. Set in the future (Post-ST Nemesis/post-Endgame). This is a prologue to the main fic.

**Notes:** Chuen is a Mayan calendar day sign, meaning spider monkey. _(*hint* New Earth *hint*)._ Cauac is another Mayan day-sign name, meaning rainstorm.I used an online stardate calculator to get a date for about 60-70 years on from when Voyager nearly marooned its command meaning of Tabula Rasa is to start anew, to erase the slate for a fresh beginning.

Thanks to **Gabriella Janeway** for the beta. All remaining errors are my own.

**Warning:** Implied character deaths, implied (off-screen) babyfic, Prionic Occulators are made-up non-canon technobabble.

**Disclaimer:** Characters and setting belong to Paramount Pictures and CBS, not me. No profit or harm intended. This is a fanfiction, not Canon.

**Prologue: Incursion**

**A planet in the Delta Quadrant, late 24th Century:**

_"Father," she'd asked, "why is mother crying? Is she hurt? Why did she fall down? Why can't I go in the shelter?"_

_"Don't be afraid," father had said, "Your brother is coming today, it may look scary, but mother will be fine."_

_She remembered that he'd looked strangely happy then, when he said that, and it was still only morning. She'd wondered why he was happy, when mother was crying. That wasn't like him to do that. He loved mother, and before, he'd always been sad whenever mother got angry or sad or hurt. Never happy._

_She didn't understand, and, had she not felt so scared herself, she would have asked him why. Not today._

_"Is mother going to be ok?" she asked. "I'm scared, father."_

_"Hush … hush … yes, little monkey flea, mother's all right," Father told her. "Sometimes it hurts her, but your mother is very strong, like she was with you. Go and play, now … up by the pink rocks. If you can find some starberries to bring back, that'll be very good. I'll call you when your brother is here."_

_She did that, feeling too uneasy to insist on staying. Mother's crying made her feel bad and frightened and cold inside, so she trusted what father said. She went up to the pink rocks, but found no berries on the bushes, though there were some spider roots that she dug up for supper._

_Then, she took out the little wooden shuttle that her mother had carved for her, the one she'd made for her after they'd watched father teach them how, and piloted it around nebulas of bushes and through wormholes between rocks. _

_She narrowly dodged a dodecopede burrow's gravitational event horizon, fired imaginary phaser blasts at a blood-wasp until it went away, ducked behind a branch to evade the counter-fire, and, mission done, took it safely in to land on an 'M-Class' boulder covered in flowering silver-moss._

_Even though she was at the pink rocks, she could still faintly hear her mother crying, on and off, as the day wore on. Later, she didn't hear it for a while, but that was because the monkeys started calling – like they always did at that time of the day, when the weather was warm. _

_But when her father called her back, because it was getting dark, she could hear the crying again … then silence … then over again._

_Father wasn't as happy then, like he'd been in the morning. In fact, she'd never seen him looking so sad and worried before. Mother was sad like that sometimes, but never father. Father was always calm and happy, or calm and thoughtful, or, sometimes - when she'd been naughty - calm and stern. Father never seemed to be hurt or frightened by anything. Seeing the pain and fear in his eyes frightened her too, and she began to cry._

_"Is mother all right?" she asked again._

_"Your brother is still coming." He'd told her. "She has to work very hard to help him come. She's a little bit tired now, but she is still strong. Go to the cabin, if you see your mother hurting you might be sad, and right now it won't be good for your mother to see you upset, she needs to keep up her strength for your brother. You can see her later, when your brother's here and she's rested. I'll get you some supper and help you wash up, but I'll have to go back to the shelter to look after your mother if she calls me."_

_"I left some spider roots at the pink rocks!" she'd said, suddenly concerned._

_"We can get them in the morning," Father said. "I've got your soup ready, come!"_

-o0o-

**In orbit over an M-Class planet, Vidiian space, the Delta Quadrant, 65 years later:**

_"Doctor Danson?"_

A man's voice buzzed from the commbadge pinned to the black and teal uniform of a Starfleet science officer. Its wearer – an immaculate, dark-haired slip of a woman -paused from a stasis pod she'd been programming to reply.

"Chuen!" She snapped. "And don't tell me … It's about _that_, isn't it? I was going to talk to you later about some of my personal logs, that I've noticed this morning have been accessed …"

_"Doctor Danson,"_ Chuen replied, keeping to protocol._ "I must inform you that I've been authorised to track the replicator logs in your quarters, and there have been some transactions you've recently made that will require investigation."_

Doctor Danson did not reply. Instead, her expression hardened as she reached for her badge, as if to rip it off... but instead, with a sigh of frustration, let her hand drop to rest on the pod window.

Her badge chimed again.

_"Gretel, please ... tell me you're not actually going to go through with this?"_

"Chuen!" Gretel Danson snapped, in reply to her brother's request. "I'd rather that you didn't use the commbadges for these talks – I always keep my channel on when I'm in the lab, patch it through to that instead. Danson Out."

Gretel checked the settings again on the pod, then gently run her hand over it for a moment - before going over to a PADD on a nearby bench, switching it on, and keying in to her channel.

"Chuen, are you still here?" she asked.

"I'm here." On the screen appeared a tall, strapping man in yellow and black uniform, a lieutenant commander's insignia on his collar. He was slightly younger than her, a small tattoo fanned out from his left brow, and his greying black hair was in a neat buzzcut.

"Gretel," he said, "... I know we've talked about the Temporal Prime Directive, and I know how you think I keep going on about it, but have you really... I mean really thought about what this incursion you're planning could do? This will affect other people - our friends, our families, others we don't even know ... not just us."

"I've told you before," Gretel replied, coldly, "I know what temporal incursions can lead to, and I've calculated the likely effect, and made provisions. Shall I remind you of what our parents went through? ... Chuen, I only want to give them a chance. Just_ one_ chance, make _one _adjustment to their timeline so they can have that!"

Chuen hunched over his desk with a sigh.

"You've become obsessed, Gretel. It was a mistake letting you come on this mission," he replied, "I should have taken the signs more seriously than I have, I know that now. You know, last time you came to visit us before we left, Cauac asked me why his aunt didn't want to talk to him. You'd always liked telling him stories about what you'd done and found out there. But now, you've been distant, always wanting to get away so you can get on with things you never want to talk about. And speaking of my son ..."

"I care about your family, and I don't want to wipe Cauac from existence!" Gretel cut in. "You know that! But I also know that things are wrong in this timeline, and I know there's more I can do, a lot more I can do to fix it. ... And I also know that I can do it in a way that, if done right, will not cause the damage you think ... and if I've found a way, Chuen, then I must try it. I have to, for their sakes."

"We will be safe," she continued, "I assure you. Your son can still exist as long as you, at least, survive. I can make sure there will be no paradox ... you'll still be around to grow up, and father Cauac over again ... trust me!"

"How can I trust you?" Chuen said. "If I did, as you say, do the same thing over again, would the son I have in the new timeline still be truly him? I can't accept it, Gretel. I can understand your wish - like you know, I was just a baby when it all happened - too young to remember, but I still know their story, and I read their logs when I was old enough."

"I remember them," Gretel said. "Don't forget that. Mother and father are more to me than logs and stories and pictures and holos. I played with them, spoke to them, they looked after me … and unlike you, I also remember what happened to them."

Chuen leaned closer to the screen, and Gretel saw the sudden hurt in his eyes. The man she'd still often thought of as her baby brother suddenly looked unnervingly old.

"Gretel, getting back to my point," he said, pointedly ignoring her attack. "I have analysed your private replicator logs, and I have a very good idea of what you're doing. Modifying a tachyon beacon to use as a trans-temporal micro-array …That's all pretty damn risky stuff. Even if you get it right, you could still create temporal inversions, permanent rifting, dimensional loops, cross-temporal contamination ... the list goes on. There's a reason we have Temporal Directives."

"Or there could be one small adjustment made to one normal, prime timeline, and reset things for the better," Gretel insisted.

"That's another thing," Chuen said, "though I hope that I'm wrong about my next guess, Gretel ... When I found out you'd been building a micro-array, I'd assumed you'd also got an idea on the way whatever warning message you're planning on sending is going to travel. I found you'd replicated three prionic occulators. Those are parts for psychiatric emergency aids, they're for sending subliminal data. Licensed counsellors use them to help traumatized patients by enhancing and directing their willpower. You are not a counsellor, Gretel," He added. "And you wouldn't need things like those for a micro-array … unless you were planning on infecting your target's computer with a subliminal matrix?"

"That's a pretty good guess, Chuen." Gretel said ... and Chuen's eyes narrowed.

"What are you thinking?" he hissed, "Gretel, I also have a very good guess at where you're planning to point that thing. Infecting a whole starship is a very dangerous step! And that thing was also using old-style bio-neural circuitry! It had only recently been invented back then!"

Gretel listened, stony-faced. Chuen gestured desperately as he continued.

"Something like that would send its whole system crazy!" He said, "... You know they won't be able to detect anything like this back then. That aside, infecting a ship computer's subroutines to make it brainwash its crew ... that's walking some pretty thin ice ethically ... you will be manipulating people without their knowledge or their consent!"

"I'd hardly call that brainwashing," Gretel retorted. "The ship's logs stated pretty clearly how unhappy the crew were about leaving our parents behind on that planet. They also mentioned passing by some Vidiian ships that could have helped ... Most of them'd already made their minds up about what they thought was right. They wouldn't have needed more than an extra push with their resolve to help them to act on it."

"I read the logs too," Chuen replied, leaning back in his chair. The two bright pips on his collar glinted in the light of his desk lamp.

"So you and I would also know that the officer who took over as acting captain was a Vulcan," he continued, "and I also know the Vidiians were still having troubles because of the Phage - and so they were not as friendly a bunch back then as they are now. It would have gone against Captain Tuvok's logic to have stopped. Beside which, you know that nearly every adult Vulcan is able to resist a subliminal matrix pulse. Very easily. Have you thought about how he will deal with a mutiny resulting from your meddling?"

It was now Gretel Danson's turn to be silent.

"Vulcan or not, I could also read a lot between the lines of his logs," She said, eventually, in a tone of finality.

"And no, I'm not in the mood for further discussions on Vulcan logic. In fact, I think we've spoken about this whole matter long enough, Chuen."

"Gretel," Chuen gravely replied, "It appears that your mind will not be changed. As Third Officer and Chief of Security on this ship, you are aware of my duties in a situation like this."

Gretel coldly met her brother's eyes as he earnestly looked at her from the PADD screen.

"Gretel, I'm very sorry," Chuen said, "but I've given you enough chances ... this is illegal, and I can't let you go any further with it. I've just put a security trace on your bio signature. You will wait for us in your lab ... and please, Gretel, don't make things any harder for us or yourself than they have to be ... I'm sorry. Lieutenant Chuen Out."

Gretel switched her PADD off, and slowly walked back to the stasis pod. Resting her hand on the window again, she idly studied the light refracting off the translucent foam that filled it, protecting the human contents she could just make out underneath.

_Whatever happens_, she thought, stroking off a tear that had dropped on the window, _they haven't stopped me. They'll destroy the backup, but everything else is already set in place … and I have made absolutely sure it will not be found. I promise you, I will not fail ..._

As the security team materialised in her lab, she turned to face them, and allowed herself to be led away without word or resistance.

-o0o-

Captain Miral Paris was in her ready room, busy with the cleanup crew on the planet's surface. In her mid-sixties now, she was one of the longer-serving starship captains of her generation. She'd turned down numerous offers of promotion, and had becoming as famously attached to her rank as the likes of Scott, Sulu, and even Picard.

The glitch with the slipstream drive had been fixed, and if all went to schedule, she'd hoped to have the _Alexandria B_ out of orbit and away to its next mission before the day was out. When her badge chimed, she paused transmission and glared at the door.

"Captain, Lieutenant Chuen here. We have Doctor Danson with us."

"Come in," Paris said. As the security team walked Gretel in, she locked eyes with the younger woman - who blinked once, but did not turn away from the imposing part-Klingon's stern gaze.

"Please wait here." Paris ordered.

Turning back to her PADD, she resumed transmission, asking her ground team "How much longer until everything's cleaned up?"

"We've already got the last of the shelter beamed up to cargo bay," came the reply, "we've removed the last of the feral crops, and we're almost done with the log cabin, and the ground where we did the exhumation's been fully sterilised. We believe we should be able to get everything else finished inside the next three hours."

"Inform me when you do," Paris replied. "The Vidiians were very specific about wanting everything of ours gone from this planet, but we're still ahead of schedule so make sure you leave absolutely nothing behind. Paris Out."

She then turned to face her visitors again. "Doctor," she said, shortly, "sit down. Security, you are dismissed – except for you, Lieutenant Chuen. You may remain. Both of you take a seat."

Brother and sister obeyed together, sitting grim-faced before their Captain.

"Lieutenant Chuen," Paris said, "before I proceed any further with this, I would like to see your evidence."

Chuen glanced his sister -concerned, but without apology. Reaching into a uniform pocket, he produced a datachip. Putting it into a PADD, he tapped in a few commands, and then turned its screen so the Captain could see.

"These are Doctor Danson's replicator logs, from Stardate 119426.8 to 119855.1." he said. Her face hardened as she read, and she gave Gretel a sharp look.

"Doctor," She said, "Do you have a current replication permit for these items?"

"I have no such." Gretel replied.

"Then," Paris said, "I will inform Starfleet, and you will remain under arrest and confined to your quarters until further notice. Unless you possess a valid and current license, these are not legally replicatable items; not in Starfleet, nor in the Federation ... and I'm very certain you know that they're not legal here in the Vidiian Union as well."

"I know my ships personnel files," Paris continued, and I know that I, Commander Icheb and Chief Engineer Vorik are the only three on this ship currently entitled to hold such a license. Whose access codes did you steal to make ..." she turned the PADD's screen around to face Danson …

"... These?"

Danson looked at the array of devices on the screen. Without expression, she said; "Chief Vorik's"

Turning the PADD back, Paris tapped her stylus over it.

"Let's see what happens when I try to put them all together ..." she muttered, "... Yes, very clever ... I can also see a subliminal matrix has been included, and it's trace-cloaked too ..." after a moment's silence, she lay the stylus on the table, disgust in her eyes.

"I think I've seen enough." She said, turning the PADD to face Gretel and Chuen. The screen showed a spirally grooved disc, illuminated in a myriad of glowing blue lines.

"Lieutenant," she said, to Chuen, "You've done enough for now. I have further things to discuss with Doctor Danson, and it will be better that this is done alone. I will include your sister's cooperation in her report. You are dismissed."

Chuen nodded stiffly. "Yes, Captain," he said, then left the room.

-o0o-

**Seven Hours Later:**

After the last of the Vidiian inspectors beamed back to their runabout, the mission paperwork was formally concluded, and the _Alexandria B_ cleared to leave. They taxied through space behind the Vidiian escort ships, heading full-impulse to the system's edge from where, out of the way of in-system mining craft, they could be clear to go to warp.

Doctor Danson was in her quarters, sedated and under supervision. She'd taken Paris's interrogation stoically, but had collapsed when the escorts came to take her. The Betazoid guard she'd assigned to the job reported a lot of sadness and confusion from his charge, but nothing else that could be suspicious.

Paris had sent a report of the incident, on a secure channel, to the nearest Federation Consul at a Vidiian starbase, and she expected his reply soon. She'd also ordered Lieutenant Chuen a few extra hours off-shift.

Captain Miral Paris had her engineers scan the ship and the surrounding space for any unusual objects or traces, but found none. She was now confident that, whatever incursion Danson had been planning to make, it had been foiled in time.

She studied the blue-hazed planet on the main screen. She never had the chance to know Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay, who had been stranded there many years ago, before she herself was even born. She'd learnt their stories from her parents, Captain Tuvok and the other crewmembers. As a child, she'd often played in the blissful holonovel her father had made, the one depicting their life together on that world.

She'd understood the sacrifice they'd made, and accepted why they had to be left behind.

... But there was also the day, twelve years after homecoming, when she and the other surviving Voyager crew received that call from Starfleet. There, assembled in a lecture hall, an Admiral read out the news they'd retrieved from the logs of a shuttle found with its tractor beam auto-locked onto a derelict Borg cube. A shuttle that held a body; and two children in stasis.

Two children who grew up, and went on to become highly accomplished Starfleet officers. But enough time thinking - right now, before they left, there was one more honor to give.

As the _Alexandria_ swept over the planet's pole, Captain Miral Paris rose from her seat in the old Klingon ritual, and her terrible warning cry rang out through the bridge - while her crew kept quietly on with their work.

"It is finished," she said, when done. "Let us leave. Warp five, Ensign Riker –Engage!"

The young Human-Betazoid keyed in the command, and the nacelles on the _Alexandria B_ glowed in response. They went to warp ... and the universe around the ship suddenly seemed to ripple as it vanished from time and space.

-o0o-

**68 years earlier, on the **_**USS Voyager**_**, two light years away:**

Ensign Harry Kim didn't like Captain Tuvok's order to continue. He understood the reason, he knew the protocol for the situation, and he accepted that, even on ordinary missions, officers and crew had to expect to be sacrificed at any time.

He knew his Captain and Commander had been left with everything they needed, and that there was every likelihood they would survive a long time on that planet … maybe even grow old together. Maybe even find love with each other … Kim had noted the chemistry between the two, though it had taken Tom Paris to first make him aware of it.

But … ever since _Voyager_ left, Kim just couldn't relax. He felt there was still something about the situation that just seemed … wrong. He had a growing feeling that they urgently needed to turn back, and contact the Vidiian ships ... that there was something about the future awaiting their Captain and Commander that wasn't _right_.

Kim also knew he wasn't alone in that thought, and that somehow, if he tried, he would get support from the crew – enough that, together, they could confront Tuvok on the bridge, and make him change his mind. He planned to find Tom, B'Elanna, Kes … or any others he could find. It was mutiny - he knew that - but he also just knew it was also a matter of life and death. He couldn't explain it, he just somehow knew.

Though he'd obeyed distressing orders before, this time, he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Something in him just froze, as if there was a line before him that wouldn't be crossed. He left Tuvok's quarters determined ... and he soon met Kes, who'd told him what he already suspected about the feelings of the crew. With a little more work, he soon got more support behind him - much more, in fact, than he'd first dared to hope for.

And, soon afterwards, when he and the crew confronted Tuvok on the bridge, this time Tuvok listened –for though he would not speak of something so illogical, he'd too had many concerns for his former commanders. Bowing to the wishes of the many, he changed his orders to save the few … and _Voyager_ turned around, on a course back to the Vidiian ships.

**-End of Prologue-**


	2. Chapter 1: Indications

**Title: **Tabula Rasa, Chapter 1: Indications

**Author: **Ghosteye99

**Summary:** One small discovery leads to life-turning events, and not just for one Starfleet Admiral. Set in the future (Post-ST Nemesis/post-Endgame)

**Notes:** Thanks to **Gabriella Janeway** for the beta. All remaining errors are my own.

**Disclaimer: **Characters and setting belong to Paramount Pictures and CBS, not me. No profit or harm intended. This is a fanfiction, not Canon.

**Chapter One: Indications**

**Starfleet Museum, San Francisco, Earth:**

In 24th Century San Francisco, there was a museum within easy eyeshot of Starfleet Academy, dedicated to humanity's milestones in its trail to the stars. Immaculately kept pathways wound through its spacious grounds, one of which branched off to an exhibit that, ten years after its installation, was still very popular with the visitors.

It was an old-style Intrepid-class Federation starship, the second one of her kind built. Perched regally over a rockery of extraterrestrial desert plants, her weapons were disarmed and her warp and impulse engines offline. A hobbled and toothless tiger now, but the rest of her they'd kept whole. Had it not been for a twist of fate seventeen years ago, it was probable that, if they'd survived the Dominion war, that same ship and her captain would have stayed ordinary enough – by 24th Century standards – to be still working out in space.

As it was, both had stayed firmly earthbound in the decade since their famous journey ended. The ship was now a walk-in exhibit, with two holobars and a restaurant. Her captain was now a Vice Admiral, with an office instead of a bridge. The rest of her surviving crew were scattered around the planet or across the galaxy, going wherever their lives had taken them.

There was a cold sunny morning, just before daybreak, when two Academy cadets stood on that ship's back, playfully sparring with their sonic mops. They'd been assigned cleaning duties as the result of some petty rule-breakings ... but the scarcity of people about at the early hour had lulled them into a false sense of security. Busy with their game, neither heard the light crunch of boots on the gravel walkway below them - until it was too late.

"It looks like both of you are planning on a career track specialising in hygiene management," the visitor drolly spoke, in a voice that made the cadets jump in recognition. "Admiral!" they murmured together, standing to attention at the sight of the petite, middle-aged woman below them.

"I can see a lot of Romulan slater's nests under that aft plasma conduit," Admiral Janeway said, looking over the ship she'd once commanded, "... as well as pigeon droppings on both nacelles. I want to see all of that gone by the time I come back out."

"Yes, Admiral!" the cadets replied, in unison – whilst immediately setting to the offending matter as though their Starfleet careers depended on it. Janeway watched them work for a moment - to make sure – and then continued up the gravel pathway to _Voyager's_ access ramp.

When she got to the bridge, she found Commander B'Elanna Torres already waiting for her; with a small team she'd scratched together overnight. Janeway recognised two of the old _Voyager_ crew among them – Lieutenants Molina and Vorik – as well as three newer faces; recent graduates from the Academy.

She could also make out the boots, legs and torso of a woman in civilian overalls who was working underneath an opened console panel. Anson, the ship's curator, was also there, talking with Molina and two of the museum's maintenance crew.

"Admiral," he said, reaching out to shake Janeway's hand. "I'm glad you could take the time! As you've probably heard, there have been some problems with the ship's computer system over the last 47 hours. We suspect something might have contaminated the bio-neural circuitry, but we can't yet locate its source."

"And that's why _we're_ here, Admiral" Torres said, coming over to hand her a PADD. "You can see for yourself what's been happening. All I can say is that I'm glad we had all of _Voyager's_ warp and propulsion systems thoroughly gutted out after we parked her, otherwise ... well, see for yourself … you can imagine what would have happened."

"Thanks, Commander," Janeway said, taking the PADD. She read through the report in silence. ... until she came to something that made her eyes suddenly widen. Startled, she looked at Anson, then Torres.

"This ship autonomously activated its self-destruct sequence!"

"Not only self-activated it," Torres said, "... but completed the sequence, then repeated it, in a loop, for several hours until one of Mr. Anson's workers discovered it. Thankfully, there was no antimatter left on the ship to blow anything. We still had a _lot_ of problems getting it to shut down the sequence."

"Anson ended up having to make a night call," Torres continued, "to a civilian contract engineer he knew, who he thought might be good enough to help us." She added, nodding stiffly toward the overalled woman working under the console. "Between us, we were eventually able to halt it. It looks like we've been able to keep things under control - for now."

Janeway noticed a change in Torres's tone of voice when she spoke of the woman, which she put down to an engineer's protectiveness of her old ship.

"Ma'am," she said, addressing the woman. "We owe you our gratitude. You should have been in Starfleet." When she received no answer, she pressed further.

"Your _name_, ma'am?"

Carefully, the engineer lay her tools down, and pulled herself out from under the console. As she nervously sat up to face her, Janeway recognised her with a little jolt, and realised the irony of her praise. Her face was now a little more lined, she'd grown a little plumper around the hips, her hair was cut in a much shorter style ... but Janeway had a good memory for faces, and there was no mistaking Marla Gilmore, formerly of the _Equinox_.

"Gilmore, I presume?" Janeway asked.

"It's Lessing now, Admiral." Marla said quietly, but meeting her gaze. Janeway detected something in the woman's tone … a touch of defiance, but she also sensed some lingering guilt.

Janeway gave her a polite nod, while she felt something inexplicably knot in her gut.

Her lined face, civilian clothes, and those four short words suggested volumes to Janeway about the life Marla and her husband had lived since homecoming. A reunion, maybe even while still in the penal colony ... holding on to each other... rebuilding a life together after release ...

At the thought of 'together', Janeway felt an unpleasant little stab of jealousy, which she - disgusted with herself – quickly suppressed.

"Lessing ... what were you able to find?' she asked, instead.

"I think there's some kind of trans-temporal matrix infection in the computer system," Marla replied, getting to her feet. "Probably an encrypted phase anomaly. It's become very deeply entrenched, which means it could have been in there for a very long time. It's possible it could have even been picked up while we were back in the Delta Quadrant."

"Any ideas how could that have happened?" Janeway asked, remembering with a chill the times the replicators bugged, during the journey - not to mention the holodeck ... or the transporter.

Marla shrugged.

"I know there's been a lot of recent developments in temporal devices here," she said, "So who knows what kinds of things could have been lying around in the Delta Quadrant. It could have been a probe or a trap, some malfunctioning debris from a lost ship or station ... anything."

"Can we get it out?"

"Commander Torres's team and I have been calibrating a chroniton matrix scan," Marla replied. "It looks like that's our best shot."

"If the tachyon harmonic settings are adjusted to the right frequency," Torres explained, "we should be able to pinpoint the entry nodes of the infection, and remove them. It might take some time, though. But I think we might be able to shorten the time considerably, if Vorik, Molina and I work together calibrating the phase modulator while Lessing adjusts the frequency levels."

"Good idea," Marla said. "My husband's shift starts at 1130 hours, and I'd like to be home before then, or we'll have to call a babysitter."

Janeway felt again the stab of jealousy, and the knot in her gut. _Well, Lessing, looks like you've also done better than I in two areas of life ... _a caustic reprimand formed on the tip of her tongue, but she bit it back in time. Marla was a civilian now, not Starfleet. She had a right to set her times to an officer.

"How long will that take?" she asked instead, addressing Torres.

"About two more hours, if all goes well," Torres replied.

"Then do it," Janeway said. "Call me if you need my help or find anything interesting. I'll just take a quick walk outside to see how those cadets are going with the cleaning ..."

-o0o-

"I'm re-initiating the chroniton matrix scan now," Torres said. "Keep your visors on, and remember to keep looking away every four seconds."

Janeway watched as the outline of Voyager on the screen became enveloped in a loud, painful ball of rainbow fire. Marla, squinting and regularly looking aside, tuned the scan until the blur of colours focused into a gridwork of hair-thin lines.

Torres made another adjustment, and the grid expanded three-dimensionally inwards, from the ship's skin to its interior. More adjustments, and the matrix lines began to cycle garishly through the spectrum - even Vorik appeared to be wincing now.

Suddenly, Janeway noticed a spot in the circuitry near the mess hall that seemed to linger for a split second, its line staying red when the grid shifted to orange, orange when it brightened to yellow ...

"There, see!" Marla said, squinting against the violent colours. "There, there ... and _there_ ... and there as well! _And there_! All those points are cycling slightly behind phase with the rest of the grid!"

"By approximately between 0.039 and 0.047%" Molina affirmed, as he fed the information through to Torres and Vorik's consoles. "All are within the computer network," he added. "They look like they might be temporal lag-points," Janeway said.

"I think I can isolate them," Torres said, frantically working. "I will assist you with the positronic sub-routine net" Vorik said. "Thanks," she replied, "we should be able to filter this disturbance right out of the system very soon."

"Can you save a copy of it?" Janeway asked.

"Yes," Torres replied "we can."

"Do so," Janeway replied. "I want copies of these anomalies saved for analysis. I want to know what they are, where they came from, and how they got into my ship!"

-o0o-


	3. Chapter 2: Reflections

**Title: **Tabula Rasa, Chapter 2: Reflections

**Author: **Ghosteye99

**Rating: **PG 13+ (T)

**Warnings:** Lots of flashbacks in this chapter, including another of that birth-scene, and mention of *that* hologram (no, not the Doctor), and lots of solitary reflections over coffee.

**Notes:** Thanks to **Gabriella Janeway** for the beta, all remaining errors are my own.

**Disclaimer: **Characters and setting belong to Paramount Pictures, not me (except for the non-Canon life forms e.g coneapples, which are my own creation). No profit or harm intended. This is a fanfiction, not Canon.

**Chapter Two: Reflections**

**Dorvan Colony:**

_Somewhere above the hills, Chakotay saw something flash in the late morning sky – followed by a woman's voice calling him from the woods. _

"_Kathy, are you alright?"_

_There was no answer… and then, she called again – and she sounded more urgent this time__._

"_Hold on," he replied, "I'm coming!"_

_He cursed his wife's stubbornness under his breath as he got himself organized __– he should've talked her out of going out so far at this time; if she'd needed coneapples so much, he would've got her some after he'd finished cutting the firewood …_

"_Gretel, go help your mother while I get the medikit!" he said, to a little dark haired girl who'd been playing with a carved toy shuttle. _

"_Mother's not hurt; is she?" Gretel cried, startled. _

"_No," he said to his daughter, while grabbing a bag and tricorder out the medical chest. "But I want you to go and stop her from trying to run, before she falls down and hurts herself or your baby brother."_

"_Yes, Father!" she said, shooting out the door while he bolted out just behind her, kit in hand._

_He'd been so jumpy these last three weeks, that he practically flew out the cabin. He could already see Katherine, walking awkwardly into the clearing, and looking like she might stumble at any step. _

_He caught up with Kathryn just before Gretel did, catching her in a steadying grip on both arms just as she started to fall against him. Gently, he eased her down on the grass. _

"_It's all right, Kathy, I've got a tricorder and some hyposprays with me, just give me a second ..."_

"_Damn ... the coneapples," Kathryn muttered, as Chakotay anxiously scanned her body. _

"_... Just realised, I've left the whole damn basket behind ... Damn!"_

_She suddenly grimaced and bent forward. It was then he noticed the damp dust coating her feet and sandals. The weather had been dry for days, and she hadn't gone near the river. Something made him look up to the sky, and he thought he saw something flash again__…_

... Chakotay's eyes opened, and his consciousness pushed up through the hazy leftovers of the dream, as he gradually remembered where he was now … in his village cabin, on Dorvan. Seven was his wife – he looked up in the dim light of her alcove, and could just make out her silhouette as she regenerated.

He remembered that Kathryn was now an Admiral, working in Starfleet Command on Earth. As for family, Chakotay had his mother, his sister and his nephew, plus an aunt. Of his own children, there were none – though lately both he and Seven had been seriously discussing changing that. As for Kathryn, the last he'd heard of her, she didn't either - and anyway, by now she would almost be past the age for it.

_She's safe now. This didn't happen. Go back to sleep._

The thought was irrational, and he knew it. But meditating on it still eased the ache he felt in the pit of his gut whenever he woke from the dreams. _Kathryn is safe_, he reminded himself again … _Seven is my wife_ … _this is_ _what is real now._

Turning back onto his side, Chakotay tightened his blanket around himself, and curled up closer to Seven's alcove; he always kept his sleeping mat there, so he could stay close enough to her to reach out and touch her if he needed...

**Voyager, Starfleet Museum, Earth:**

_Voyager_ didn't repeat any misdemeanours after her computer system was cleared and tested. To make sure the contamination had left no other casualties, Admiral Janeway personally checked in at both Sandrine's and Fair Haven, the two holobars on the ship.

She rarely visited Fair Haven nowadays, though that was now more from lack of recreational time than a bad conscience. A year after homecoming, on the Doctor's insistence, she'd arranged a meeting of the town's sentient holograms, and informed them of the nature of their existence.

With the Doctor's help, it had taken them a surprisingly short time for them to get used to it. In a further act of atonement, she'd also made some long overdue confessions to Michael, and gotten Tom Paris to restore his original wife. Fran Sullivan soon attained her own sentience, along with a lingering wariness of Janeway – though she'd eventually accepted Janeway's apology for having previously deleted her.

Janeway found no problems in either holoprogram, but she was also annoyed – though not surprised - that none of the museum staff had bothered to check in on them first. Janeway shook Michael's hand, and wished his family the best, before leaving the holodeck.

On the way out, she stopped in the mess hall restaurant for a coffee, and even managed to get the plain black brew that she'd asked for - instead of being foisted with one of the exotic combinations on the now Leola-free menu screen. Finding a quiet table tucked behind a bulkhead - out of easy sight of visitors - for a few moments she permitted herself the luxury of reflection, as she restimulated herself.

Though most of her crew was scattered through local space, she still kept in regular touch with as many of them as she could. Neelix was doing well. Miral Paris was getting good grades, Naomi Wildman and Icheb were in Starfleet Academy – _and_ they were an item. Naomi's mother Samantha was now first officer on the _Velocity G, _and looking likely to take over when her Captain retired.

Tuvok had six more grandchildren, and Harry ... Harry was, like Janeway, having much more luck in his career than with love, and having – like she did - endured a heartbreaking run of missed chances and string-along romances. But he was a nice, personable man, and with the added charisma of another promotion, she could not imagine him staying alone for much longer.

Holding onto the widening bonds of her surrogate family, Janeway had watched them plod, skip or stumble their way onward since their return. She'd followed their lives like a kind of doting - if distant - grandmother.

_Goodness! Am I already thinking of myself as that old? _She thought …

…There was also Chakotay. And Seven ... she hadn't heard much from them since their wedding, especially in the last few years, and she hoped they were both still doing well. Not for the first or last time, she wished they'd kept in touch, or that she herself had trid harder to make them do that. The thought tightened an old knot in her gut, but having taken a fresh dose of caffeine, she could easily shrug it off again for a while.

But ... when her mind turned again to Marla, Janeway remembered the snarky little thoughts she'd caught herself out in. She knew that they had less to do with guilt or righteousness over what happened in the Delta Quadrant, and more to do with envy - stupid, childish, personal envy. Marla had a partner and their own family now, and Janeway didn't. That was all.

She realised, with shame, that she wouldn't have even thought of indulging that kind of pettiness over that kind of achievement in the rest of her old crew, _Voyager_ or Maquis. She knew that Marla and her husband had finished paying their dues for their part in the _Equinox_ killings, and yet some dark, angry thing at the back of Janeway's mind still wanted them to keep on paying for their wrongs, as if it felt that they still hadn't earned back the right to have what she herself didn't get…

…and immediately, her mind went back to churning over _that_ old problem again.

Yes, she'd always wanted a family. It was a reasonable goal; most Starfleet officers usually ended up having one. Of those that didn't, it was usually because they either died, or didn't want one. Had things gone to plan, she would have married Mark, and their children would've almost been old enough to go into the Academy by now.

But seventeen years ago, the Caretaker stole that path from her. During the following years in the Delta Quadrant, as captain of a ship stranded in hostile space, finding another partner and starting a family no longer had priority - in fact it was out of the question. Admittedly, she'd more than warmed to Chakotay as the journey progressed, and she suspected that the feeling was very mutual – at least, until just before the end.

But she could not then have allowed things to go further with that; it would have created too many problems. Had they become lovers, it would have created such a conflict of interest that one of them would have had to step down to preserve the integrity of the ship's Command. And either she _or_ he doing that would have harmed the crucial balance that'd existed between the Starfleet and Maquis crews.

So, neither he nor she dared make any personal move to undermine her ship's chain of command. Chakotay, like she, knew the protocols. And he, like Mark, had tried to hold out for as long as he could, but – like Mark – there was a point where he could wait no longer, and needed to move on to someone he felt he _could_ have.

Janeway understood; she herself wasn't that well suited to living like a nun. Twice she'd tried, when she'd thought she'd had an opportunity to do that for herself. She'd made the offer to Jaffen, who turned it down because he wanted to stay with his own, and to Kashyk, who she'd later _had _to reject, if she had any humanity and common sense in her. And then, there was the hologram Michael…

As the years went on, bit by bit, she'd forced herself to let go of many of her more personal dreams. _New Earth_ … she still often thought of that time when she and Chakotay were stranded together. Would they have become lovers then, if they'd stayed?

She knew the answer to _that,_ and promptly tried to put her mind to other things, before the knot came back ...

…She'd remembered looking into the eyes of her future self, that day she'd come onto her ship. She didn't like what she'd seen – she'd already glimpsed the seeds of that terrible loneliness in the mirror. She'd asked the Admiral once about lovers and family - as one would - and the Admiral had abruptly cut her off, without even giving any advice. Janeway knew herself well enough not to have pressed the subject further then.

Their shortened journey brought back her personal hopes, but even now, in an earthbound job, a stable and committed love still seemed to evade her, while Starfleet duties took up ever more of her time and energy. She'd lately been locking horns with some of her colleagues over the Pathfinder project, which she'd fighting to justify keeping online.

There were also signs of unrest among some factions on the Klingon homeworld, and that needed watching. Add to that the continuing problems in what was left of the Romulan and Cardassian territories, and Janeway wondered if she would have the time left now for anything else but her work duties.

She'd also been noticing the signs, as her 'change of life' gradually approached - though she knew this _was_ still the twenty-fourth century, and that there were still treatments she could take to push the clock back, and give her a little more time. She _could_, in her situation, apply for permission to seek a donor, see the Doctor, take leave, put in a light duties request, take an early retirement ...

... But, no matter how much Janeway still wanted _that_; it would still only fill half the equation of her needs. She detested the thought of starting a family alone. And, as an Admiral, she now felt as responsible for the ships and officers under her command as she did for her crew when she was a captain. Involved as she was in so many causes and cases, many of them urgent, she doubted whether she could just walk out on them now.

_New Earth … if we__'d become lovers, would __we have also risked having a child?_

She knew the answer to _that_ as well. Could either of them live with themselves, if they'd deliberately brought a human life into that situation, knowing he or she could be destined to die in a state of total isolation? Having had more than a taste of such herself, she would never willingly condemn her own children to the same, if she could avoid it.

_But then, what if the replicator malfunctioned and corrupted the shots? What if the virus had compromised their effectiveness?_

"This is getting stupid," she muttered to herself, mentally giving the primitive side of her mind a firm kick, while finishing her coffee before it got too tepid. _You know the reasons,_ she thought sternly, _so deal with it_,_ and grow up!_

Checking the chronometer, Janeway realised she was almost due at a meeting back at Starfleet command. She got up to leave – _Voyager's_ transporters still worked, and she trusted the morning's system cleanup enough to use them. Finding a turbolift, she ordered it to the transporter room. Barely had it begun to move when her badge chimed.

"Janeway here," she said.

"_It's Commander Torres_," Torres replied. "_Admiral, we've done some preliminary analyses of that phase anomaly, and we've found there's data stored in it. We've already retrieved a lot of stuff. And I mean a __lot!"_

"I don't have time to see it for myself right now," Janeway replied, "but I'll be free today at 1450 for about an hour. Meet me at my office, I can grab some lunch and take a look then."

"_The way it looks, I don't think half an hour will be enough_," Torres replied. "_Can I patch the results through to you as we get them_?"

"By all means, do it," Janeway said. "I'd still like to have a look through it with you, though. Can you give me any general details at this stage?"

"_We're currently decoding ... but we've already found either one large, or more likely two small transporter buffer patterns_." Torres said.

"Buffer patterns!_"_ Janeway exclaimed, pacing out of the turbolift to the ship's transporter pad. "What else have you've found out about those!"

"_They show signs of chroniton contamination, indicating a temporal disturbance, but surprisingly little degradation_," Torres replied, "_I don't know if we can reconstitute them yet, their pattern runs on a very sophisticated phasing matrix, not like anything we've got now. I __can__ tell you that, so far, they look like they both may be human_ ..."

-o0o-


	4. Chapter 3: Investigations

**Title: **Tabula Rasa, Chapter 4: Revelation

**Author: **Ghosteye99

**Warnings:** This chapter has yet more flashbacks with birth references.

**Disclaimer: **Characters and setting belong to Paramount Pictures, not me. No profit or harm intended. This is a fanfiction, not Canon.

**Chapter Four: Revelation**

**Dorvan Colony:**

_Chakotay gave Kathryn a kiss on the angle of her cheek. "Chuen's fine," he told her, "he's a lot stronger now, and he's sleeping."_

"_That's good," she murmured in reply. Her voice sounded weak ... too weak for anyone's liking. He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, wishing he could lend some of his own physical strength to her. He would not let fear show on his face, or in his voice. He had to be strong for her. Gretel, Kathryn ... and now, Chuen too ... they all needed him, now more than ever._

"_I'm sorry I can't be of much use to you right now, Chakotay." She whispered, then caught her breath with a grimace as another spasm of pain caught her; an aftermath of her recent ordeal, even though her labour had been over for more than a day now._

"_Nonsense, Kathy," he replied softly, "you've been doing far more than your share for a long time. You need to rest; I can keep things running until you're back on the bridge, so to speak. Try to sleep now."_

"_You didn't have another try on that replicator?" She asked, worried. _

"_I did," Chakotay replied, "I couldn't get anything out of it, I think it's finally gone – of all the times for it to do that. We'll have to try to get your blood back up another way, which I'm afraid means you'll be eating a lot of Leola for a while."_

_Kathryn groaned at the thought, but returned Chakotay's squeeze with as much firmness she could muster in her state. _

"_With all due respect to Mr. Neelix," she said as she looked at him and smiled, "… at least I have a cook that can ... how can I put it ... spoil my palate a bit better."_

_He smiled. "I'll always do my best, Kathy." He said. "I've had a rest this afternoon; I can keep watch on you and Chuen tonight. We've still got enough stimulant hyposprays left if you get into any more trouble."_

"_I hope I won't need them," she replied. "Damn it, Chakotay ... I hope we can somehow work out a way to make sure this doesn't happen again ... I'm far too old to be doing this kind of thing ... even if I was back in some cosy Federation sick bay, with a fancy Federation medic to help me ... let alone out in a place ... like this ... with only basic …"_

_Chakotay held her hand, waiting for her to say something more ... but her breathing became more regular, and soon, he knew she was asleep. Carefully letting go of her, he gently pulled the blankets up to keep her warmer. He then settled back in the rocking chair he'd dragged over by her bedside, and wrapped himself in a blanket she'd made for him - the first one she'd learnt to weave after coming to this planet._

_The cabin lights were dimmed to the minimum, but as his eyes adjusted, he could see a pile of the day's unwashed sheets in the basket, dark-streaked in many places – even though this was now nearly the second day after the birth. _

_Chakotay was deeply happy that Chuen had arrived safely- and he could see the same relief and happiness in Kathy's eyes when she'd held him. But the long, difficult delivery had put a terrible strain on her. _

_Her cries still rung in his memory, mingled with the orders she'd screamed at him – orders to keep trying, to ignore her pain and his own fatigue as he'd held the medical tractor beam … and slowly, steadily, lent his strength to hers. With his help, Kathryn was able to keep fighting on, until their combined strength eventually brought their son alive and whole into the world._

_But even now, the rusty tang of blood still hung faintly in the air with the other cabin smells. He was sure he could still detect the traces of it under his fingernails. …and the bleeding had not stopped. _

_Nothing he'd had left seemed to help her enough with that - not even any of the native herbs they'd been studying in their spare time. Surgery was too dangerous with what little medical supplies they had left. There was a hypospray that could have cured it, but he'd used up the last of that during the birth, and the replicator which could've made them more was now dead …_

_Chakotay sang a quiet prayer for her, before adjusting his blanket again, and trying to sleep. Tomorrow, he'd start the wash early, for as sure as the spirits lived, he knew there would be more of it to do in the morning… something made him look up, and out of the window, he thought he saw a flash of light…_

-o0o-

**Starfleet Command, Earth:**

"We've made another breakthrough, Commander."

Torres paused the DNA match-scan she'd been re-checking for the sixth time to look at Vorik's screen. "Do you think we will be able to rematerialise them soon?" she asked, hopefully.

"I am going to program in some extra phase redundancies, just in case," he said, "And there are also remaining traces of that alien virus to consider."

"I'm making good progress in removing it from their patterns." Molina said, "All going well, we could be able to bring them here within a week."

"Tell me when you're sure that we're close enough, so I can arrange a counsellor and medic to be available when we go … because those kids'll be needing both." Torres replied. "Chakotay's replied to our message, he and Seven should be just on their way now. They'll be here in a couple of weeks, so we'll need to set a rematerialisation date soon, to make sure that he can be here and on hand at the time. Admiral Janeway will need to be there as well."

"I suggest that we rematerialise the boy first, Commander." Molina ventured; "When the Admiral and Chakotay have both seen him, then Chakotay can hold him while we bring the girl back. Considering what the logs suggest had happened, that way would be more reassuring and less traumatic for her, considering her likely last memories."

"Seven and Admiral Janeway will both have to hold back for a while when it's her turn," Torres noted, "Which could be hard for them both, especially Seven. You remember the nanoprobe samples Seven had sent to the Doctor and us? He's not having any more luck than we've had. The biological option might be out for her, and she could also face a very one-sided fight if she and Chakotay tried to adopt." Torres shrugged, "and I know the government here won't look kindly on her trying to borrow the Doctor's emitter to create another One, like she unintentionally did back in the Delta Quadrant. This may be her only chance at a family with her husband."

"And as for the Admiral," she continued; "we've been workplace neighbours since we came back, and I've shared a lot of coffees with her. I've picked up a few things when we've talked about Miral, and I've come to see more of some sides of her that she didn't show that often when we were back on _Voyager_. She's also regretting a few lost chances. She may seem like she's all Starfleet Brass down to her bedclothes, but I know what she'll be like after she's read those logs. By the time those children rematerialise, you can bet your last rations that she _will_ have become very attached to them."

"Emotions, though illogical, will still tend to form a pattern of their own that logic can still can be applied to, enabling one to predict them." Vorik noted. "Admiral Janeway may not have physically borne these children herself in this timeline, but I strongly agree with you that she will still find it difficult to remain apart from them, once their existence has been re-established."

"Well," Molina noted; "Whatever happens, those children definitely won't be unwanted. Vorik," he added, "The virus is now fully demarcated from the both buffer patterns, so they're all ready for you to clear now. I'm sending you a separate copy of its DNA sequence for a reference. When you're finished, can you put it on chip – quarantine locked - so that the medic can run a full analysis on it?"

"That will be done," Vorik replied.

"Looks like we might already need to start looking for a counsellor," Molina added. "I have considered Counsellor Troi, if she is available. She has been making more regular visits to Earth since she enrolled her children in a Starfleet school, and I recommend her highly."

"Noted, Lieutenant," Torres replied, "Troi is currently on short-term planetary leave, so we may be in luck. Vorik, check Counsellor Troi's appointment schedule for the next two weeks. If we can't get her, find the next-highest rated counsellor available – but look only for those who have experience with traumas affecting young children. Make sure you let the Doctor know what's happening as well."

"Yes, Commander."

Torres resumed her DNA match, and let it run through on its final pass. She already knew the results, but protocol preferred that she make at least four more passes before approving the results. She'd already made six, on the highest level of accuracy. This pass was the lucky seventh...

... And it came up with the exact same results as the other six, to ninety-eight percent accuracy. The children were fully-human, that was for sure – and both their parents were _Voyager_ crew, and both were still alive in this timeline.

One was in Starfleet Command, currently attending a meeting in a conference room a few floors above them. The other had retired from the 'fleet ten years ago to live on his home colony, but would now be on a starship en route to Earth.

It was Torres's duty to first inform the Admirals who'd been assigned with overseeing the reclamation project. She opened her channel on her PADD to send what she had to those who were waiting - immediately after first sending another, on a secure channel, with the full logs and summary attached - to both of Gretel and Chuen's biological parents.

-o0o-

**Dorvan Colony:**

"Chakotay," Seven said, speaking in the People's language, "I have become increasingly concerned with your recent practice of leaving our bed for these night walks."

"Sorry, Seven," Chakotay replied, as she sat down next to him on their log bench under the stars. "I don't like going away from you, but I find that this is the best way to calm my mind after a difficult dream."

"I have noticed that these difficult dreams still remain a frequent occurrence," she noted. "Have they become any clearer in their details?" Chakotay shook his head.

"No," he lied, not feeling ready yet to tell his wife about the subject of his nightmares. "I still have not had one that is clear enough to let me learn what they are about."

On other nights, Seven would have let him be and gone back to bed. This night, however, she held her shawl tighter against the chill of the early autumn night, and continued.

"I have also noticed that you have begun making your personal logs upon waking in the morning, instead of evening, as you had been doing before." She said. "Are you attempting to find a pattern in the dreams by recording your impressions?"

"I think so," he replied, truthfully. "I don't know what has made them suddenly come to me these past few weeks. I have twice tried a vision quest, but each time, the forest was empty."

"I have also noticed that your recent consultations with the Akoonah have not been as long in their duration as they normally are," Seven added, putting her hand on Chakotay's. The warmth of her touch revived his mood after the dream, but his unease remained.

"It is possible," she continued, "that you may need to extend the time of your sessions, to obtain the results you seek."

Chakotay paused for a moment, not wanting to tell her that there was a reason he'd been shortening his consultations. "I believe that you may be right," he said, eventually. "After the _Challenger_ comes by to take us with it tomorrow, I should have enough time after the greetings for a longer attempt."

"Then we have agreed on a probable solution to the problem," Seven stated. "Come with me back to the cabin. You will need to complete your sleep; and I will need to complete my regeneration. We will also need to get our belongings prepared for beam-up tomorrow."

-o0o-

**Admiral Janeway's Office:**

She noticed the incoming message alert blinking on her workstation, and put it on hold while she finished sending her condolences to the husband of a starship captain, whose ship had disappeared several weeks ago. Some of its debris had just been discovered four hours earlier, not quite enough to suggest it had been lost, but not a good sign either.

Then, Janeway switched off the screen for a moment, and went over to the replicator to make herself yet another coffee, extra strength. She still had a string of Starfleet orders to transmit, and several support requests and protocol breaches to follow up. But first, she needed something to help put the grief-stricken face of the man she'd just spoken to out of her mind.

…_dear God, that baby he was holding couldn't__ have been more than a few months old. This must have been her first mission after its birth…_

She rubbed her forehead, and made herself think of the situation on Q'onoS, the continuing Pathfinder battle, anything else instead of _that_. Even after all these years, something would come up now and then that could still threaten to make her cry like a fresh cadet.

Coffee helped, but the way the Doctor had been talking about _that_ habit, she once again considered signing up for that meditation school Tuvok had recommended. If she was ever to make it to full Admiral, she was going to need something to keep herself in full control at work...

…her door chimed. "_Torres to Janeway_," Torres's voice came through her badge, for good measure. "_Admiral, do you have a moment?_"

"Come in, Commander" she said, and the door slid open to let the engineer in. "It's about the message I sent you," Torres said; "Did you have a chance to read it?"

"No, I haven't," Janeway replied. "This has been a busy day, and I've just had to inform Commander Maslin of his wife's disappearance."

"Not _Captain_ Christine Maslin of the _USS Salisbury_, who'd just had her baby not long ago?" Torres replied, shocked. "Commander Wildman and she were good friends."

Janeway nodded slowly. "And I can't help also thinking of what would have happened, had I married Mark before that mission. That man would have been him as well."

Torres gave her a thoughtful look. "Speaking of what-ifs," she said, "I think you need to take a look at my message now."

"Can't it wait?" Janeway asked.

"No," Torres insisted. "It's not necessary to read the whole thing right away, it'd take too long, but you need to see the important part. We've found the DNA match on the buffer patterns."

"And?"

"Admiral," she said, "You and Chakotay were the biological parents of those children in that timeline."

Janeway's coffee paused half-way to her lips, and her face hardened. "Are you still certain that this is not a hoax?" she asked, "or a bizarre blackmail attempt?"

Torres nodded. "There is too much detail, and too many things correlate," she affirmed, "Stardates, mission logs, the technology and fashion styles of the time, personality profiles…" Janeway's eyebrow rose a little when she heard _that_ "… and I can't think of anyone on Voyager who would have had both the knowledge and the motivation to do that."

Janeway didn't answer for a moment, but instead leaned – or rather, flopped back in her chair, looking somewhere between hard-faced and stunned.

"Well, I have a pretty good guess at what kind of story that suggests," she said, to which Torres nodded, once. "I'll patch your message and it's attachments through to my home, and I'll read it more thoroughly when I get home tonight." Janeway continued; "Has Chakotay been sent a copy as well?"

"He has," Torres replied; "I sent his to the _USS Challenger_, marked personal, with a security lock. Only he, Seven and the Captain can access it. Captain LaForge knows it's from us, and he'll respect their privacy."

Janeway nodded.

"Thank you," she said. "And thank you again, B'Elanna, for letting me know at once. I'll make sure I read as much of it as I can tonight. Might as well know what I could have gotten up to before my superiors do."

"That'd be a good idea," Torres replied; "Admiral, I'd better warn you again that some of it is rather … heavy going."

"I'm sure I can take it," Janeway shrugged with a little grin; "I didn't get a ship through the Delta Quadrant by being a sissy."

-o0o-

**Aboard the **_**USS Challenger**_**; Leaving Dorvan System En Route to Earth:**

The message came over the intercom in Chakotay and Seven's quarters, while he was busy carving a stone for Seven's medicine bundle. "Chakotay here," he replied.

"_There is another incoming message for you from Starfleet_," Lieutenant B4's voice replied. "_It is in the form of a data block, and it has been signed by Commander Torres of Starfleet Engineering. It has also been marked as private._"

"Thanks, B4," Chakotay said. "Patch it through. I'll look at it shortly."

"_You are receiving it now_," the android replied. "_B4 Out_."

The PADD switched back to a view of his inbox, and he noted a new unread letter with the Starfleet tag had appeared at the top of the list. He could also see that there was a folder with a large amount of data attached. Though it was marked private, it wasn't flagged as urgent.

Chakotay expected that it was another update to the message he'd received yesterday from Admiral Nakamura when he was back on Dorvan, the one that had gotten him and Seven passage to Earth on the _Challenger_.

He'd already been told that Torres's engineering team had found two human buffer patterns that had somehow been hidden in _Voyager's_ computer, and that they'd also been confirmed to have come from an alternate timeline. He also knew that, whoever those patterns were; they had a connection to _Voyager _and its time in the Delta Quadrant – and that he and Admiral Janeway were directly involved.

Chakotay opened the message and read Torres's notes, expecting to see the name of some other crewmember mentioned. He learnt that the patterns were those of two children – and that the parents were two of_ Voyager_ crewmembers. The notes explained that the attached data block contained the personal logs and holos their parents had made, which Torres had sent him, along with a password authorisation to protect his privacy.

At first, he was mystified as to what those logs and buffer patterns had to do with his privacy …. until he read the buffer pattern notes again, and this time fully registered eight familiar words that made him pause;

_Biological parents: Adm._ _Kathryn Janeway (mother), Chakotay (father)__._

And then, Chakotay remembered the dreams he'd been having, and after what he just read, the uncomfortable sense they now started to make.

He knew he should consult the Akoonah, keep reading the files Torres had attached, meditate, talk to Seven about them. He remembered the old, unanswered letters from Admiral Janeway that had gradually dwindled, then stopped – and wondered then if it would have been better if he'd instead taken the risk, and tried to keep in touch with her more.

But he didn't, because ten years ago, when their journey had abruptly ended, he'd almost been tempted to do something that would have only brought heartbreak and confusion to him and Seven. He'd nearly let himself fall for Kathryn Janeway again.

He'd come close; in those weeks, amidst the flurry of their reception, she'd suddenly seemed to become something more than just their captain who'd kept her promise and brought them home. Kathryn had seemed so much larger than life then … and yet, he knew the woman in the centre of this attention more intimately than most, and he knew how vulnerable as well as heroic she was.

And she was there, on Earth, alone. The lives of a crew no longer depended on the two of them keeping their relationship professional. He could have taken it further if he wanted to, he could have just reached out, and asked…

… And didn't, because of what he believed it would do to Seven. And also, because it would have hurt Kathryn as well – Seven had practically become an adoptive daughter to her, and if he'd have left one for the other, she would have asked him some questions that he wasn't sure he knew the answer to. And because he was convinced, back then, then that he loved her more.

So he held back, to avoid temptation, and to keep Seven, and have things stay simple and manageable rather than risk losing what he had. He withdrew his application for the academy teaching post, and left Starfleet to move closer to his family. After he'd resigned his commission for the second time in his life, Seven put aside her own tentative career plans to follow him.

A year later, they were married in a private ceremony on a starbase, with just the two of them plus the celebrant and his sister present. They moved to Dorvan the next year. Five years after that, Kathryn Janeway's rarely answered letters eventually stopped coming.

Still, Chakotay had often thought about contacting her again, but he feared what doing so would reawaken … he had a niggling sense that, after all these years, there was still a piece of her left behind in him, buried very deep, that he still couldn't bear to purge.

_Admiral Janeway belongs to my past now_, Chakotay told himself, like a mantra. _My future is Seven._

Whatever he might still feel about the Admiral, he could not deny that he still cared for Seven. He wrapped the thought of her around his thoughts like a safety blanket, and saved the message for later reading. Turning off the workstation, he returned to his carving to help clear his mind, softly singing a traditional prayer as he did so.

Chakotay continued working on the stone until his cabin intercom chimed again, with a computer delivered invitation for him and Seven to have dinner with another passenger in the mess hall.

He replied with his acceptance, and put his carving tools away. Then, he changed his clothes, quickly checked himself in the mirror, and then asked the computer to locate Seven.

When they returned from the dinner, there were still some free hours left – but Chakotay spent them in with Seven the arboretum, followed by a swim together in a Risian lagoon simulation on the holodeck. Later, they read novels together before retiring. He liked spending the extra time with her, and being together on a starship again brought back heady memories of their first years together.

Not wanting to spoil that, he forgot to mention the message to her, nor did he remember to open it again that day, nor the next … nor the day after that.

Even if it had everything to do with why he and Seven were on their way to Earth, whenever Chakotay did remember, he would reason that they had plenty of journey time left, and there was therefore no need to hurry.

-o0o-


	5. Chapter 4: Revelation

**Title: **Tabula Rasa, Chapter 5: Exhumation

**Author: **Ghosteye99

**Disclaimer: **Characters and setting belong to Paramount Pictures, not me. No profit or harm intended. This is a fanfiction, not Canon.

**Chapter Five: Exhumation**

**Admiral Janeway's residence, Earth:**

If the files they'd retrieved from _Voyager's_ computer were a hoax, then Janeway thought that it was surely a damned good one. Still, she was very grateful she'd cancelled that evening's appointments. She'd spent most of the evening at her bedroom table, in front of her PADD.

Torres was right about the logs, there was a lot to get through – and not all of it made for easy reading. Neatly grouped in order of stardate, nearly all were titled from New Earth. Some logs were in voice and some in text, often with still images and holovids.

Listening to her and Chakotay's other voices, reading their words, Janeway began to uncover a story about herself and he that had never happened in the life they knew now. _There,_ the cabin _did_ get built, as well as the boat, a shed, and a shelter for the shuttlecraft.

Her tomato patch bore fruit, and her crops diversified as their replicator became less reliable, and – which would've pleased Neelix – she'd eventually even had to include leola with the other vegetables.

Randomly opening one of Chakotay's logs a year and a half from their stranding, she skimmed through a long, rather well-written spiritual reflection. It was only toward the end that she learnt it was triggered by a decision he'd made, after a lean season, to compromise his vegetarian diet with creatures from the river, and of the ways he would make peace with them for taking their lives.

___Allowing my body to weaken is not an option_, he'd written, ___now that another is coming, who will need me, and as well as for Kathryn , who also needs me – and soon, more than ever so._

Janeway blinked at what Chakotay had implied … and, holding her breath, scrolled the PADD display ahead through the entries that followed, counting the stardates forward through what she guessed was the right number of months.

Tapping with nervous anticipation on a link, she heard her own voice calmly expressing frustration that she'd still not quite fixed the replicator - which had tainted a colic medicine she'd made for Gretel, her newborn daughter.

Looking at other logs dated around that time, as well as the months before and after, Janeway noted a sudden increase in those with images or holovids attached to them, often both.

She randomly tapped open a few more, and tried to keep herself dispassionate while viewing them - including a holovid Chakotay'd made of herself playing with their baby on her knee; and earlier, a group of stills of her sitting among a riot of flowers by the cabin door, which must have been taken a month or so before Gretel's birth. In some of these, Chakotay was with her, and most times when he was, he embraced her lovingly.

Janeway stared blankly at the screen. She felt that knot in her chest tighten again.

…And took another sip of her coffee, but it did little to stop the slight spinning in her head. Rubbing between her eyes didn't help much, either. Much of it was tiredness, and too much reading …

But frankly, she ___knew_ she shouldn't have been so surprised by what she saw… even if she didn't agree with the ethics of everything her alternate self had done, it still made a lot of sense as a possibility … and, to be honest, she knew she'd gradually been growing more attracted to Chakotay, even back at that time …

So why? Was she still on that strange and self-punishing path to redemption, that she'd thought she'd left behind in the Delta Quadrant? Had the sacrifices she'd made for the greater good hardened herself against her own personal humanity so much, that on some gut-feeling level, she'd found even the sight of herself as a lover and mother so uncomfortable to take?

___I should be above all that by now_, she thought, distractedly pinching the bridge of her nose …___but above what?_ Some high-horse part of her mind insisted. ___Above what you are seeing yourself indulging in on that PADD screen … or above your taste for martyrdom?_

Skimming down a few years to another bunch of photos, Janeway opened another family shot – Chakotay, herself, and Gretel – dark haired and brown eyed like her father, but her face could have been her own at that age.

In some of the later ones, she saw herself showing signs that a second child was on the way. Often, they were posed by the cabin, and she could see there were now roses in the garden, and also flowers that she couldn't recognise – ones that must have been native to the planet.

She looked at them over and again, flicking back and forth between the same entries she'd opened, listening to the same logs – some of them much more than once. A part of her mind grabbed hungrily at them, starved for every detail of the family story she was unfolding.

Another part of her wished with equal desperation that none of it had ever existed. That her self-discipline had never slipped so far … that she and Chakotay had just lived chastely side by side, reading books, planting vegetables and rowing boats. That would've been easy.

But they hadn't, she and he from that other life. They'd done more, much more than that. And soon, she knew, many of her superiors would read what she read, and know what she knew.

They would be required by protocol to be discreet about it, but they would have had to – all temporal incursions were to be treated as a serious matter, even if they contained time capsules full of intimate personal diaries and baby holos. Even buffer patterns containing innocent children. The details would be made known to Starfleet's highest. That was the policy.

Janeway felt as if she was preparing to be stripped naked before an assembly, and it was not a good feeling. But the foreknowledge still gave her an edge; and a better chance to be ready when the questions started.

A glance at the chronometer in the corner of the PADD shocked her back to the present. Scrolling hurriedly down through the long list of unread files that followed, she realised that she still had most of a very long and detailed story left to get through, even the gist of which could not be absorbed in the remains of a single night.

Thankfully, though, at the bottom she found a summary that Vorik had included. It only took a few minutes to read, and his clinical style made it slightly easier for her to take the impact of what she read.

Only slightly. She now understood why Torres and her team had looked so grim. The comment she made that morning, about how eventually, things became difficult for Chakotay and her other self in that timeline - that was an understatement.

Forcing herself back to detachment, Janeway turned off the PADD, and silently thanked Torres's team while she quickly dried and checked her eyes. Focused on the summary, she hadn't even been aware she'd started crying until she saw a drop hit the screen, and realised what it was.

It was now 2250 hours, and she needed to get some rest, if she didn't wish to start nodding off in front of the six officers and forty-seven cadets at the Academy lecture she was scheduled to give tomorrow. If her eyes were still red and puffed when she woke, she would put her dermal refresher on a low setting and fix it.

Exhausted, she finally changed out of her uniform, got into bed, and tried to sleep.

-o0o-

Hours later, Janeway turned over and checked the chronometer again. It was 0235 hours, and she still couldn't sleep – and she knew it was because of what she'd seen on the PADD, the intimacy and tragedy of it all eating away at the back of her mind.

Shoving her pillow aside, she realised she'd been holding it so hard against her, that her hands were now stiff and aching. At least she hadn't been crying again. She realised as well that she'd been thinking a lot of Chakotay, and Seven, worrying how it would affect things between them when they read the logs for himself. She still felt of Seven as a daughter, and she was also still very fond of Chakotay. Though she'd seen little of either for years, she wanted them to stay happy together.

Janeway dragged herself over to replicate a sedative hypospray, checked that the alarm was definitely on, and then went back to bed to put herself out.

-o0o-

**Aboard the **_**USS Challenger**_**, En Route to Earth:**

Chakotay was alone, with his medicine bundle opened in front of him. As he'd done many times before, he stilled his mind and cleared it of expectations as best as he could. Keeping focused, he softly whispered a chant for guidance as he touched the Akoonah ...

_...The world disappeared around him, and he found himself in the forest again. Alone, as he'd always found himself in the beginning of a vision quest. He knew though that he wouldn't need to wait long before this would change. This time, though, he would face her, and not run away ..._

_... Above him, something rustled through the leaves, maybe a bird or small lizard. He heard footsteps, too heavy to be those of a wolf, more human instead – but not heavy enough to be the tread of most men. A woman, perhaps, or a child. Chakotay waited ..._

_... The leaves parted, and through them a familiar figure stepped - pale, almost gaunt; her features lined and careworn, her long, just-greying hair tied back. Her long dress was stained, and her waist was still slightly rounded. It was the Kathryn Janeway from the dreams that had been haunting him._

"_Kathy..." he said. _

_She looked him in the eye. "You haven't allowed me to speak with you about our children, Chakotay." she said. She spoke in her Captain's tone, and it was an admonition. _

"_You always leave before I can reach you."__ She said; "you avoid me. Why?"_

"_Our children," he asked, __steering the subject. __"__Do you know where they are?"_

"_I know they are still alive." Kathryn replied; "but only just. Thanks to the work of one of them, they have crossed out of our time, but they now cling to life in yours. They will need your help.__"_

"_How... tell me, Kathy, tell me how __I can do that! I don't know!__"_

"_You will know what to do__." __Kathryn answered; __"When you__ stop running__,__ and face what you know, your spirit will no longer have to force you to dream the truth instead__."_

_As she finished speaking, she began to fade …_

"_Kathryn!" Chakotay leapt __to his feet, and took by her shoulders. "Tell me more! Tell me about those dreams__…__ tell me more about what happened to you? Kathy, please stay, I want to talk with you!"_

_Kathryn gazed up at him, and gave him a look as soft as a caress. For a moment, she became more substantial again._

"_Read the logs, Chakotay." She __said__.__ "Read them properly, and listen to your better self__.__ They are counting on it. So is she.__"_

"_Kathryn, who is 'she?'" h__e asked. "Is she Seven? Please ... Kathy ..." he pleaded. "There's more to it than just that. I need you, don't go... please ..."_

_His hands began to sink into Kathryn's shoulders as she began to fade again__._

_"If you are offered the uniform, take it__.__"__ She said. __"__Allow Seven to make her choices, but don't leave the other ... she will soon need you, very much. If you turn her away, Chakotay, she will be lost."_

"_Who is 'she'? Please tell me!"_

_Kathryn's eyes seemed to soften a little more ... and in a rush of feeling, Chakotay let go of her shoulders to take her into his arms … but he found himself hugging his own chest instead__…_

…_She was gone. He dropped to his knees, face in hands, and realised he'd been weeping ..._

... He came back to reality to find Seven crouched next to him, looking concerned.

"Sorry, Seven," he said, roughly wiping his face against his sleeve, while putting his bundle back together. Thankfully, his eyes were dry - he'd only wept in his vision.

"This session turned out to be very exhausting." He continued; "But I saw some things in it that could be important."

"If this will help you, then it is good," Seven replied. "But I have come to inform you that the Captain wishes to see you in his ready room. I volunteered to find you when you didn't respond to his hail."

-o0o-

Captain LaForge was busy checking through a pile of PADDs when his door chimed. "Come in," he said, stacking the PADDs neatly aside as Chakotay entered the ready room.

"Chakotay, it's good to see you," he said, getting up to shake hands with his visitor. "Take a seat; I was just going through these engineering reports, but they'll wait until after."

"I thought that was the Chief Engineer's duty," Chakotay said.

"It is," LaForge replied, "but I was a chief engineer myself for a long time, and some old ways die hard."

"Know the feeling," Chakotay said. "Back when I was on _Voyager_, after being a captain myself, I didn't always find it easy to be the one taking orders."

"I think that's true of a lot of ex-captains," LaForge chuckled. "Now, I'll get to the point of this meeting." He said, his tone turning businesslike. "I've received some new orders from Starfleet an hour ago. Before I can fulfil them; there's a few things I want to ask you … about certain people that you may have known of in the past, during your involvement with the Maquis."

"May I ask why?" Chakotay asked, warily.

"I can't tell you much," LaForge said, "Except that it's classified. There's extremely little of this that I'm permitted to discuss with non-Starfleet people."

"Then unless I know more about what you intend to do with this information, I'm not willing to discuss it."

"I_ can_ give you more detail about why I need this information," LaForge replied, "but since as you are ex-Starfleet, for security reasons you will be required to resume your commission before I can do that. If you do, you will required to undertake a re-training period that could be long or be short, depending on your previous rank and personnel record. You will also need to wear the uniform again, and retake the oath."

"I've been getting quite used to civilian life," Chakotay said, "Seven and I have become settled on Dorvan, we have also been seriously considering starting a family. If this rematerialisation works, then those responsibilities will be with us even sooner. Those children were used to having their parents around them, and if it is Seven and I who raise them, then I'd prefer them not to have parents who are away in space for years on end."

"It's not always such a bad thing, growing up on starships with 'fleet parents," LaForge replied. "It can be just a matter of organization. I was raised going between my mother's and my father's ships. I didn't get to see them together much, but I _did _get to have plenty of time with them both. My childhood turned out to be quite an adventure for me, and I don't regret it."

"Maybe my experiences in the Delta Quadrant have jaundiced my own view," Chakotay replied, "but I myself feel very much that a child needs to grow up with a sun on their back, and their feet on living soil."

"That's up to you," LaForge said, "though I do admit that if you resume your commission, as a Starfleet officer, you won't be able to pick and choose the assignment you'll be given. You will, however, be allowed submit preferences for postings that will better suit your needs. There'll still be no guarantee that you'll get what you want, but I've known a lot of people who did when it was important."

"I'm still not fully convinced," Chakotay said. "I've worn the uniform before, twice, and now I've become more comfortable out of it. But I'll wear it again, for as long as I'm required to, if you can tell me this; is the reason behind Starfleet wanting this information from me, for a cause that _you_ believe I'll be willing to support."

"Without giving too much away …" LaForge said, carefully, "Yes. I believe that it is."

"Then I will trust you on that," Chakotay said. "Captain, may I request to resume my commission with Starfleet? I am willing to retake the oath, and to wear the uniform."

"Request granted," LaForge said. "Tell me your size, and I'll replicate one for you now. Then I'll call my First Officer up here to witness the oath."

-o0o-


	6. Chapter 5: Exhumation

**Title: **Tabula Rasa, Chapter 5: Exhumation

**Author: **Ghosteye99

**Disclaimer: **Characters and setting belong to Paramount Pictures, not me. No profit or harm intended. This is a fanfiction, not Canon.

**Chapter Five: Exhumation**

**Admiral Janeway's residence, Earth:**

If the files they'd retrieved from _Voyager's_ computer were a hoax, then Janeway thought that it was surely a damned good one. Still, she was very grateful she'd cancelled that evening's appointments. She'd spent most of the evening at her bedroom table, in front of her PADD.

Torres was right about the logs, there was a lot to get through – and not all of it made for easy reading. Neatly grouped in order of stardate, nearly all were titled from New Earth. Some logs were in voice and some in text, often with still images and holovids.

Listening to her and Chakotay's other voices, reading their words, Janeway began to uncover a story about herself and he that had never happened in the life they knew now. _There,_ the cabin _did_ get built, as well as the boat, a shed, and a shelter for the shuttlecraft.

Her tomato patch bore fruit, and her crops diversified as their replicator became less reliable, and – which would've pleased Neelix – she'd eventually even had to include leola with the other vegetables.

Randomly opening one of Chakotay's logs a year and a half from their stranding, she skimmed through a long, rather well-written spiritual reflection. It was only toward the end that she learnt it was triggered by a decision he'd made, after a lean season, to compromise his vegetarian diet with creatures from the river, and of the ways he would make peace with them for taking their lives.

___Allowing my body to weaken is not an option_, he'd written, ___now that another is coming, who will need me, and as well as for Kathryn , who also needs me – and soon, more than ever so._

Janeway blinked at what Chakotay had implied … and, holding her breath, scrolled the PADD display ahead through the entries that followed, counting the stardates forward through what she guessed was the right number of months.

Tapping with nervous anticipation on a link, she heard her own voice calmly expressing frustration that she'd still not quite fixed the replicator - which had tainted a colic medicine she'd made for Gretel, her newborn daughter.

Looking at other logs dated around that time, as well as the months before and after, Janeway noted a sudden increase in those with images or holovids attached to them, often both.

She randomly tapped open a few more, and tried to keep herself dispassionate while viewing them - including a holovid Chakotay'd made of herself playing with their baby on her knee; and earlier, a group of stills of her sitting among a riot of flowers by the cabin door, which must have been taken a month or so before Gretel's birth. In some of these, Chakotay was with her, and most times when he was, he embraced her lovingly.

Janeway stared blankly at the screen. She felt that knot in her chest tighten again.

…And took another sip of her coffee, but it did little to stop the slight spinning in her head. Rubbing between her eyes didn't help much, either. Much of it was tiredness, and too much reading …

But frankly, she ___knew_ she shouldn't have been so surprised by what she saw… even if she didn't agree with the ethics of everything her alternate self had done, it still made a lot of sense as a possibility … and, to be honest, she knew she'd gradually been growing more attracted to Chakotay, even back at that time …

So why? Was she still on that strange and self-punishing path to redemption, that she'd thought she'd left behind in the Delta Quadrant? Had the sacrifices she'd made for the greater good hardened herself against her own personal humanity so much, that on some gut-feeling level, she'd found even the sight of herself as a lover and mother so uncomfortable to take?

___I should be above all that by now_, she thought, distractedly pinching the bridge of her nose …___but above what?_ Some high-horse part of her mind insisted. ___Above what you are seeing yourself indulging in on that PADD screen … or above your taste for martyrdom?_

Skimming down a few years to another bunch of photos, Janeway opened another family shot – Chakotay, herself, and Gretel – dark haired and brown eyed like her father, but her face could have been her own at that age.

In some of the later ones, she saw herself showing signs that a second child was on the way. Often, they were posed by the cabin, and she could see there were now roses in the garden, and also flowers that she couldn't recognise – ones that must have been native to the planet.

She looked at them over and again, flicking back and forth between the same entries she'd opened, listening to the same logs – some of them much more than once. A part of her mind grabbed hungrily at them, starved for every detail of the family story she was unfolding.

Another part of her wished with equal desperation that none of it had ever existed. That her self-discipline had never slipped so far … that she and Chakotay had just lived chastely side by side, reading books, planting vegetables and rowing boats. That would've been easy.

But they hadn't, she and he from that other life. They'd done more, much more than that. And soon, she knew, many of her superiors would read what she read, and know what she knew.

They would be required by protocol to be discreet about it, but they would have had to – all temporal incursions were to be treated as a serious matter, even if they contained time capsules full of intimate personal diaries and baby holos. Even buffer patterns containing innocent children. The details would be made known to Starfleet's highest. That was the policy.

Janeway felt as if she was preparing to be stripped naked before an assembly, and it was not a good feeling. But the foreknowledge still gave her an edge; and a better chance to be ready when the questions started.

A glance at the chronometer in the corner of the PADD shocked her back to the present. Scrolling hurriedly down through the long list of unread files that followed, she realised that she still had most of a very long and detailed story left to get through, even the gist of which could not be absorbed in the remains of a single night.

Thankfully, though, at the bottom she found a summary that Vorik had included. It only took a few minutes to read, and his clinical style made it slightly easier for her to take the impact of what she read.

Only slightly. She now understood why Torres and her team had looked so grim. The comment she made that morning, about how eventually, things became difficult for Chakotay and her other self in that timeline - that was an understatement.

Forcing herself back to detachment, Janeway turned off the PADD, and silently thanked Torres's team while she quickly dried and checked her eyes. Focused on the summary, she hadn't even been aware she'd started crying until she saw a drop hit the screen, and realised what it was.

It was now 2250 hours, and she needed to get some rest, if she didn't wish to start nodding off in front of the six officers and forty-seven cadets at the Academy lecture she was scheduled to give tomorrow. If her eyes were still red and puffed when she woke, she would put her dermal refresher on a low setting and fix it.

Exhausted, she finally changed out of her uniform, got into bed, and tried to sleep.

-o0o-

Hours later, Janeway turned over and checked the chronometer again. It was 0235 hours, and she still couldn't sleep – and she knew it was because of what she'd seen on the PADD, the intimacy and tragedy of it all eating away at the back of her mind.

Shoving her pillow aside, she realised she'd been holding it so hard against her, that her hands were now stiff and aching. At least she hadn't been crying again. She realised as well that she'd been thinking a lot of Chakotay, and Seven, worrying how it would affect things between them when they read the logs for himself. She still felt of Seven as a daughter, and she was also still very fond of Chakotay. Though she'd seen little of either for years, she wanted them to stay happy together.

Janeway dragged herself over to replicate a sedative hypospray, checked that the alarm was definitely on, and then went back to bed to put herself out.

-o0o-

**Aboard the **_**USS Challenger**_**, En Route to Earth:**

Chakotay was alone, with his medicine bundle opened in front of him. As he'd done many times before, he stilled his mind and cleared it of expectations as best as he could. Keeping focused, he softly whispered a chant for guidance as he touched the Akoonah ...

_...The world disappeared around him, and he found himself in the forest again. Alone, as he'd always found himself in the beginning of a vision quest. He knew though that he wouldn't need to wait long before this would change. This time, though, he would face her, and not run away ..._

_... Above him, something rustled through the leaves, maybe a bird or small lizard. He heard footsteps, too heavy to be those of a wolf, more human instead – but not heavy enough to be the tread of most men. A woman, perhaps, or a child. Chakotay waited ..._

_... The leaves parted, and through them a familiar figure stepped - pale, almost gaunt; her features lined and careworn, her long, just-greying hair tied back. Her long dress was stained, and her waist was still slightly rounded. It was the Kathryn Janeway from the dreams that had been haunting him._

"_Kathy..." he said. _

_She looked him in the eye. "You haven't allowed me to speak with you about our children, Chakotay." she said. She spoke in her Captain's tone, and it was an admonition. _

"_You always leave before I can reach you."__ She said; "you avoid me. Why?"_

"_Our children," he asked, __steering the subject. __"__Do you know where they are?"_

"_I know they are still alive." Kathryn replied; "but only just. Thanks to the work of one of them, they have crossed out of our time, but they now cling to life in yours. They will need your help.__"_

"_How... tell me, Kathy, tell me how __I can do that! I don't know!__"_

"_You will know what to do__." __Kathryn answered; __"When you__ stop running__,__ and face what you know, your spirit will no longer have to force you to dream the truth instead__."_

_As she finished speaking, she began to fade …_

"_Kathryn!" Chakotay leapt __to his feet, and took by her shoulders. "Tell me more! Tell me about those dreams__…__ tell me more about what happened to you? Kathy, please stay, I want to talk with you!"_

_Kathryn gazed up at him, and gave him a look as soft as a caress. For a moment, she became more substantial again._

"_Read the logs, Chakotay." She __said__.__ "Read them properly, and listen to your better self__.__ They are counting on it. So is she.__"_

"_Kathryn, who is 'she?'" h__e asked. "Is she Seven? Please ... Kathy ..." he pleaded. "There's more to it than just that. I need you, don't go... please ..."_

_His hands began to sink into Kathryn's shoulders as she began to fade again__._

_"If you are offered the uniform, take it__.__"__ She said. __"__Allow Seven to make her choices, but don't leave the other ... she will soon need you, very much. If you turn her away, Chakotay, she will be lost."_

"_Who is 'she'? Please tell me!"_

_Kathryn's eyes seemed to soften a little more ... and in a rush of feeling, Chakotay let go of her shoulders to take her into his arms … but he found himself hugging his own chest instead__…_

…_She was gone. He dropped to his knees, face in hands, and realised he'd been weeping ..._

... He came back to reality to find Seven crouched next to him, looking concerned.

"Sorry, Seven," he said, roughly wiping his face against his sleeve, while putting his bundle back together. Thankfully, his eyes were dry - he'd only wept in his vision.

"This session turned out to be very exhausting." He continued; "But I saw some things in it that could be important."

"If this will help you, then it is good," Seven replied. "But I have come to inform you that the Captain wishes to see you in his ready room. I volunteered to find you when you didn't respond to his hail."

-o0o-

Captain LaForge was busy checking through a pile of PADDs when his door chimed. "Come in," he said, stacking the PADDs neatly aside as Chakotay entered the ready room.

"Chakotay, it's good to see you," he said, getting up to shake hands with his visitor. "Take a seat; I was just going through these engineering reports, but they'll wait until after."

"I thought that was the Chief Engineer's duty," Chakotay said.

"It is," LaForge replied, "but I was a chief engineer myself for a long time, and some old ways die hard."

"Know the feeling," Chakotay said. "Back when I was on _Voyager_, after being a captain myself, I didn't always find it easy to be the one taking orders."

"I think that's true of a lot of ex-captains," LaForge chuckled. "Now, I'll get to the point of this meeting." He said, his tone turning businesslike. "I've received some new orders from Starfleet an hour ago. Before I can fulfil them; there's a few things I want to ask you … about certain people that you may have known of in the past, during your involvement with the Maquis."

"May I ask why?" Chakotay asked, warily.

"I can't tell you much," LaForge said, "Except that it's classified. There's extremely little of this that I'm permitted to discuss with non-Starfleet people."

"Then unless I know more about what you intend to do with this information, I'm not willing to discuss it."

"I_ can_ give you more detail about why I need this information," LaForge replied, "but since as you are ex-Starfleet, for security reasons you will be required to resume your commission before I can do that. If you do, you will required to undertake a re-training period that could be long or be short, depending on your previous rank and personnel record. You will also need to wear the uniform again, and retake the oath."

"I've been getting quite used to civilian life," Chakotay said, "Seven and I have become settled on Dorvan, we have also been seriously considering starting a family. If this rematerialisation works, then those responsibilities will be with us even sooner. Those children were used to having their parents around them, and if it is Seven and I who raise them, then I'd prefer them not to have parents who are away in space for years on end."

"It's not always such a bad thing, growing up on starships with 'fleet parents," LaForge replied. "It can be just a matter of organization. I was raised going between my mother's and my father's ships. I didn't get to see them together much, but I _did _get to have plenty of time with them both. My childhood turned out to be quite an adventure for me, and I don't regret it."

"Maybe my experiences in the Delta Quadrant have jaundiced my own view," Chakotay replied, "but I myself feel very much that a child needs to grow up with a sun on their back, and their feet on living soil."

"That's up to you," LaForge said, "though I do admit that if you resume your commission, as a Starfleet officer, you won't be able to pick and choose the assignment you'll be given. You will, however, be allowed submit preferences for postings that will better suit your needs. There'll still be no guarantee that you'll get what you want, but I've known a lot of people who did when it was important."

"I'm still not fully convinced," Chakotay said. "I've worn the uniform before, twice, and now I've become more comfortable out of it. But I'll wear it again, for as long as I'm required to, if you can tell me this; is the reason behind Starfleet wanting this information from me, for a cause that _you_ believe I'll be willing to support."

"Without giving too much away …" LaForge said, carefully, "Yes. I believe that it is."

"Then I will trust you on that," Chakotay said. "Captain, may I request to resume my commission with Starfleet? I am willing to retake the oath, and to wear the uniform."

"Request granted," LaForge said. "Tell me your size, and I'll replicate one for you now. Then I'll call my First Officer up here to witness the oath."

-o0o-


	7. Chapter 6: Preparation

**Title: **Tabula Rasa, Chapter 6: Preparation

**Author: **Ghosteye99

**Notes:** Yes, there are more sub-plots forming, but these'll stay in the background, where they belong.

**Disclaimer: **Characters and setting belong to Paramount Pictures, not me. No profit or harm intended. This is a fanfiction, not Canon.

**Chapter Six: Preparation**

**On Board The **_**USS Challenger**_**, En Route to Earth:**

"While I was in the Maquis, I knew _of_ a Ro Laren," Chakotay said to Captain LaForge; "but I'd only seen her once, in a bar, and even then I didn't get a chance to talk to her."

The young Betazoid Ensign seated next to LaForge turned to him and nodded. "Well, that's about all." LaForge said, "I thank you for your time, Chakotay – and yours too, Ensign Bajeld. You may return to your duties."

"Aye, sir," Bajeld replied, and with a polite nod to Chakotay, he excused himself.

When the door closed, LaForge turned back to Chakotay. "That's why I can't hang around for too long after the rematerialisation. I will need to beam straight back to the ship and get underway. If that Borg _was_ her, then we'll need to get her soon, and get her back quickly. Aside from that, there's a lot she's likely to know about the acts of certain Cardassians that are currently sitting pretty comfortably in political asylum … as well as a few things about whatever's left of the Borg in this Quadrant might be up to."

Chakotay shook his head. "One more of us has survived," he said. "If survive you can call it."

"If we manage to retrieve her," LaForge said, "I will do my best to ensure Starfleet treats her as leniently as possible."

"You do that!" Chakotay snapped, then realised his overreaction. "I'm sorry, Captain" he apologised, adjusting his uniform. "I keep forgetting …"

"Apology noted," LaForge said. "Which brings me to the next thing. Now that's all over … are you planning on staying in that uniform for a while?"

"Yes," Chakotay replied. "Though I like my life on Dorvan, after what you've told me about your mission, I've come to realise that there are good reasons for me to resume my service in Starfleet – at least, for the time being."

"Well… then make sure you check in to Starfleet command first," LaForge said, "… and tell Seven as well. She might need to start looking at some more options of her own, now that she's just become a 'fleet wife."

"I could request that she serve as a yeoman on whatever ship that I'm assigned to," Chakotay suggested.

"That'd be up to Starfleet command," LaForge said. "Though unfortunately, we don't also get to pick and choose our Admirals. Otherwise, I'm pretty certain Janeway'd be pulling all the strings she could find to keep you two together."

"Yes," Chakotay replied. "I know she would."

-o0o-

**Starfleet Command, Earth – Five Days Later:**

As Admiral Janeway had expected, over the next few days she did get asked a lot of personal questions and called into several interviews; but they'd been mercifully discreet in the way they'd gone about it … so far. She'd been told of the rematerialise plans for the children, and she'd been advised to keep her schedule flexible for that week, so she could be able to attend at short notice.

She'd also been advised that Chakotay was on his way to Earth, with Seven, and that both would receive prior counselling before the rematerialisation. Though being counselled wasn't her most enjoyable way of using up her time, she could understand the reason, and was prepared – within reason - to go along with whatever advice she was given.

And Chakotay … seeing him again after such a long time, Janeway wasn't sure why she should be feeling so uptight about that, instead of happy to see them. Perhaps it was the logs, but by now, she'd had ample time to work on emotionally detaching herself from that. There were meditations and mantras she'd learnt from Tuvok that had helped her greatly in this.

It's also helped reminding herself that she was a different person now. She'd also reminded herself of Chakotay and Seven's happiness as a couple, and hoped that, after seeing the logs, they'd be affirming the same for themselves.

…But there was still the children. Janeway knew that if things went well, they would most likely choose to go with Chakotay – he was a married man living in a strong community. She was single, her own family small and scattered, and besides, by now she was practically married to the 'fleet.

She reasoned that Chakotay and Seven could offer so much more to a young child, than the hired babysitters and fleeting snatches of company that she could give. She could visit, of course … but how often? Nowadays, she rarely had time to keep properly in touch with her own mother and sister ... let alone be there enough for a baby and a young child.

But try as she might, and as much as she knew the necessity, Janeway still could not quite stay detached fromthem. If anything, the more she'd tried to pull away emotionally, the more deeply bound to them she grew.

She'd begun to dread the day of rematerialisation, as much as she'd also been longing for it.

-o0o-

**On Board The **_**USS Challenger**_**, Approaching Earth:**

"So far, I have only lightly read of some entries, and fully read the summary, Sekaya," Chakotay replied to his sister, in the People's language.

"But that is what happened in that timeline, and I can tell you that it did awaken in me some things from the past, things that I had thought I had left behind in the Delta Quadrant."

"Father always said that such things can become like a ghost, one that will always have a way of following you if you run from them." Sekaya asked. "You told me the logs involved the Admiral; do you still think of her?"

"Sometimes, yes." Chakotay answered. "I thought of her again last night, when I was reading the logs while Seven was regenerating. I am sure that I will still be thinking about her long after we have returned to Dorvan."

"You are Starfleet again now, brother," Sekaya reminded him. "You cannot assume that you can still go away and come home again whenever your wishes take you. Who is to say that they may already have your first orders waiting, when you have arrive at Earth?"

"Hopefully, those orders will be for me to undergo a few weeks training, and possibly to take two rematerialised children back home, for Seven and I to raise into good upstanding Federation citizens." Chakotay joked.

"They will want more from you than that," she said. "It has been many years since you left Starfleet for the second time, there will be new rules and new requirements for you to get used to. Plus, you will be within a chain of command again now as well, do not forget."

"I am still becoming accustomed to it." He replied. "But, you have a point. If they require me to do any retraining, it may be that I will be on Earth for longer than I intended."

"While you are there," she asked, "Are you planning on speaking more with their mother … with the Admiral?"

"I will have to," Chakotay said, awkwardly. "But she likely will not want much time with me. I have not had many messages from her for a long time. I expect our meetings will only be few and brief. Beyond the children, I do not think we will have much to talk about."

"I do not recall that you wrote to her very often, yourself," Sekaya noted. "And neither do I recall that she gave you much reason for you to turn away from her. If she did, you have not told me. If not, then I find that hard to accept, for she had done much to bring you home, and she had done much to restore your wife. There is much that you _both_ owe her. It is not good that you do not speak to her more."

"I do not feel comfortable bringing that up again, sister," he replied. "I have made my life with Seven, and I want to keep moving on. Admiral Janeway is part of the past now, not the future for me."

"What do you fear?" Sekaya asked. "Your father always said to us that the past is like the earth beneath the house; you do not need to bury yourself in it, but you do need to acknowledge that it supports you. You say that Admiral Janeway was a friend to you, so I do not see why she cannot still have some small place in your heart, and your future. More so, since the children they will bring across to our world will be hers as much as they are your's. If they say at Starfleet that it is for you to raise them," she continued, "Do you wish them to only know of their mother as a stranger?"

"No … but to be truthful, I do not want to have too see her too often." Chakotay said. "I cannot easily explain it … I've got my own life now, and I just do not want anything that was once between us to start complicating things."

"Brother," Sekaya said. "Until now, I have not asked you much about what was 'between' you and her. You have told me that she was your friend while you were on the other side of the galaxy. Be truthful. Was there also a time that she became more than that to you?"

"We did nothing," he replied. "You know that, my sister."

"I believe you … when you say that you 'did nothing' with her," she said. "But every human being knows that a bond can be made in the heart, even if the physical acts are not done. Did your heart make such a bond with her?"

Chakotay closed his eyes, rubbed his hand across his face … then decided to finally stop lying to her about _that_. "Yes," he confessed, "there was such."

"Did she return it?" Sekaya asked.

"I do not know," he replied, honestly. "She treated me as a good friend, and she found happiness in my company. Sometimes, I did question if there was more that she was hiding in her own heart … but I could not be certain. Near the end of our journey, she gave her desires to a few others … not any of her crew, she would never do that … but there were two aliens, and a hologram …"

"A woman may be in love with one, but still look elsewhere for affection and physical satisfaction if, in spite of that love, she is still lonely." Sekaya said. "Was there any time, when you were with her, and you saw anything that told you there was more in _her_ heart for you, than what she would ordinarily let you see?"

"There were times, on New Earth, that she began to show something more," Chakotay said. "But not much, she was still keeping hopes for Mark. But there were little things she would say and do after we were back on the ship, especially after she learnt of Mark's marriage. And I remember she was disappointed when I stopped sharing meals with her." he continued, "There a few other things... but I remember when she found out that Seven and I were seeing each other, it had surprised me that she was not even jealous. Or if she was, she did not show it. That convinced me then that she was not in love with me."

"Your perception may be right," Sekaya said, "or it could mean that she cared more for your and Seven's happiness … or too that she had given up."

"Either way," Chakotay said, "there is nothing more now between her and I, and I want it to stay that way. It would bring great harm to what I now have with Seven, who would not be as forgiving if she knew my heart had strayed."

"Would Admiral Janeway deliberately come between you and Seven now, if you met her again?"

"No," Chakotay said, "I am certain of it. That is not her way."

"Then you must examine your own feelings," Sekaya replied. "She is not the problem. That is in you. You must find the truth in your heart, and face it, and make a right decision about it before you do something that will bring harm to all that is good in your life – _and_ Seven's"

"Sister … that will not be easy." He said.

"Have you truly read the logs?"

"No, just skimmed over some images and entries. I have only fully read the summary." Chakotay replied.

"Then it is better that you start reading the logs, properly, before you reach Earth and face your children," Sekaya advised. "But first, you must let Seven read the summary – if you have not already shown her."

-o0o-

**Starfleet Academy Lecture Hall, Earth:**

Her badge chimed practically the moment her latest mid-morning presentation had finished. "Janeway here," she replied, whilst gathering her PADDS together to leave.

"_Admiral_," a familiar voice answered, "_It's the Doctor. I've received instructions from Admiral Nechayev to meet you at your office, and escort you to Starfleet Medical, where you have an immediate counselling appointment. I'm afraid this one's compulsory_. _You know what that means._"

"I do" Janeway replied, practically jogging down the corridor between the lecture hall and the transporter room. "But what's this about… _Nechayev_ getting involved?"

"_In answer to your question_," the Doctor said, "_yes, that is our one and only Alynna. At first, I was rather puzzled how a few family diaries and a sudden requirement for counselling on your part would be connected to the kind of high-level security matters that are Admiral Nechayev's forte', but then, I am also aware that a temporal incursion was involved … and that we are also attempting to bring two people over from an extinct timeline into an active one. You can imagine the possibilities, if something like that is taken far enough_."

"Felons escaping justice, the limitless duplication of individuals for questionable purposes, the possibility that terrible deeds could be redone over and over…" Janeway mused, as she charged through yet another set of doors. "But there is also a potential for better things to come out of it. Like two people who will get another chance to exist."

"_My thoughts as well_," he replied. "But _I suppose we'll find out what her big concern is very soon_."

"I expect that we will," she said

"_You're probably also aware that Torres's team had recently made a breakthrough in reversing the degradation of the two buffer patterns that were retrieved from Voyager's computer glitch. Sufficient to say that they're confident enough to attempt a rematerialisation this afternoon, and you and Chakotay are naturally expected to attend_."

"As the nearest thing to family they're going to have, I believe we ought to." She replied, remembering the logs she'd been burning the midnight oil over for the last five nights. "I suppose you've seen the logs too, Doctor."

"_Of course_," he replied. "_And quite an interesting, albeit rather romantically tragic medical tale at that. Some of the things I saw in those entries have moved me to draft a series of recommendations that I intend on proposing to Starfleet, for the purpose of improving the chances of long-term survival in the event of such situations arising again in the future. I think you would agree that you and Chakotay are not destined to be the last man and woman of fertile age to be stranded alone together on a pla_ …"

"Sounds very interesting," Janeway cut in, "Don't forget to show me the drafts when they're done. In the meantime, wait for me at my door, I'll be there soon. Janeway Out."

Stepping up to a pad, she turned to the Lieutenant on duty. "Starfleet Command, please, O'Leary," she said. "Energise."

-o0o-

**On Board The **_**USS Challenger**_**, Orbiting Earth:**

After a mostly uneventful journey, it was time for Chakotay and Seven to beam down to Earth. They'd gotten their lighter luggage together, and rooms had been arranged for them at a Starfleet lodging house. Seven's alcove had already been transported to their quarters, along with the rest of their heavier possessions.

They would be staying there for a few weeks, so they could be present for the children's rematerialisation, and so that Chakotay to formally complete the resumption of his commission. Seven also had some business of her own she wanted to see to while she was on Earth – both personal and career-wise. As yet, neither was fully certain when they would be going back – certainly not on the same ship. The _Challenger_ had an urgent mission, and would not be staying in Sol system after the rematerialisations.

Captain LaForge also wanted to witness it, and he'd had to pull a few strings of his own to get a few days spare to do so. It was something he was determined to see, not merely as an engineer, but for the compassionate interest he'd taken in the children's story. He himself didn't have the seniority or personal involvement to have access to the logs, but he'd gotten much of the gist via the Starfleet grapevine. He wasn't going to miss an event like that for all the world, and he hoped the reunion would be a happy one. He'd also hoped B4 was able to make it as well, but The _Enterprise _was currently away on a distant research mission, and the Android could not be there with him.

LaForge waited until the whole party was assembled on the transporter pad; he could see Chakotay – who was, inexplicably, looking somewhat grim to him … and his wife Seven, who also looked somewhat stony-faced; but then, he reasoned, a lot of ex and renegade Borg seemed like that most of the time. Hugh, for example.

Lieutenant Ogawa – his Chief medical officer – was waiting on the pad with them, as well as the two civilian passengers who'd booked _Challenger_ for passage to Earth.

Satisfied that everyone was there, LaForge stepped up to his place, and gave the order to the Vulcan at the console.

"Lieutenant - Energise."

-o0o-


	8. Chapter 7: Rebirth

**Title: **Tabula Rasa, Chapter 7: Rebirth

**Author: **Ghosteye99

**Notes:** More italic flashbacks! Time to learn more of what happened to alternate!Chakotay.

**Disclaimer: **The Characters and setting belong to Paramount Pictures, not me. No profit made or harm intended. This is a fanfiction, not Canon.

**Chapter Seven: Rebirth**

**Starfleet Medical, Earth, Late 24****th**** Century:**

As everyone took their places around the perimeter of the auxiliary transporter room at Starfleet Medical, the mood in the room was electric with anticipation. Commander Torres stood at the main console, with Molina and Vorik ready at their stations on each side.

Admiral Janeway scanned the crowd of onlookers, picking out familiar faces and recalling what she knew of them now. There was a large gathering of former _Voyager_ crew, many of them standing with Captain Ayala of the _USS Peregrine_.

She spotted Tal Celes, in Bajoran security officer's uniform. She remembered that Tal had accepted a job offer with retraining at Deep Space Nine within months of returning; Janeway'd made sure back then that her personnel file reached the right hands.

On the other side of the room, she recognised Captain LaForge and his Chief Medical Officer Lieutenant Ogawa – she'd recently spoken to both via subspace. The same for Counsellor Troi, who was briefly on leave from the _Enterprise _to go sightseeing with her husband and family,but had made the time to witness the rematerialisation, and observe the children's adjustment for a few days.

Clustered on Janeway's side of the room were those Starfleet Admirals who could spare the time to witness the event – she saw Brackett and Shanthi, both of whom kept shooting concerned glances her and Chakotay and Seven's way. There was also Owen Paris, with Nechayev standing bland-faced beside him … and then, towering over a small group of Cadets, she saw Chakotay, wearing a gold-shouldered Starfleet uniform, Seven standing serenely by his side.

_They seem happy_, Janeway thought, as she caught her breath, then turned it into a polite cough. The Doctor, standing next to her regarded her with a questioning look.

"I'm okay, doctor," she whispered.

"Good," he whispered back, "because I want to hear what Commander Torres is about to say."

"If I may have your attention, everyone!" Torres called out, as if on cue, "I believe that most of you will know what we're about to attempt here in this room today. If you don't, then I'll explain it briefly. Two weeks ago, an anomaly was discovered in the _USS Voyager's_ computer – one which, by our analysis, would have been hidden there for at least ten years, likely more. We had not been able to detect it at the time it had been placed, because back then, our file-matrix scanning technology was not developed enough to do so."

"We were able to remove the anomaly, however," she continued, "and we saved and analysed it. We discovered that it contained a data package, which included two humanoid buffer patterns and a collection of personal logs. From the content of the logs, and the overall presence of chroniton particles of similar signature, we could determine that they and the buffer patterns had both come from an alternate, and therefore a likely extinct timeline."

"We are now here to attempt to rematerialise the two human children that those patterns belong to. This will be the first time in our known history that an attempt like this has been made … to use transporter technology to retrieve individuals from an extinct timeline, and transfer them to another. With the equipment we have, we would have done so sooner, but there were some complications to contend with."

"The first major complication," Torres continued, "is that both the patterns have a severe Chroniton contamination, especially that of the younger child. This has the potential to cause a severe degradation in pattern integrity during materialisation if not addressed. We have been able to reduce this contamination enough to make a very limited series of rematerialisation attempts possible. If we can get both of them through on the first time, as we intend, that would be ideal. The other problem was much simpler to overcome. There was evidence of an alien virus in the patterns …"

…At mention of the virus, Janeway glanced at Chakotay just as he did the same, and for a moment, their eyes met … and she felt a lurch in her chest before stiffly turning her attention back to Torres. She wasn't sure if it was she or he who looked away first, and then wondered for a second why _that_ should even really matter…

"…it was successfully removed" Torres said. "But the Chroniton particles remain a concern – they are deeply embedded in the pattern, and we have not been able to remove all of them. Because materialisation can increase the contamination, if the first attempt fails, then the patterns will need to be re-neutralised before we can try again, and we can only repeat this twice at the most. More than that, and the patterns will become so degraded that the person will not survive the next rematerialisation. Therefore, we will only try one time today, once for each child. So, without wasting any more time…"

… Torres nodded to Vorik and Molina.

"… We'll begin now, starting with Chuen, the infant boy. Making preparations to energise now!"

-o0o-

**On a Shuttle Outbound From New Earth, Late 24****th**** Century (Alternate):**

_Gretel watched as her father carefully placed Chuen into the stasis pod. "Will he get hurt if something hits us?" she asked._

"_The__se pods… have their own inertial dampening system.__" Chakotay replied. __He was sweating, in spite of the slight chill of the shuttle - and he had to pause to catch his breath now and then. His left foot was bandaged to keep on the poultice of local roots and herbs he'd made to fill the deep stake wound that still wasn't healing. _

_A month ago, a dermal regenerator could have fixed it – but the last of those went dead during a severe plasma storm, along with the only reliable tricorder left. He couldn't replicate another, and it could take weeks to fix the regenerator's badly fused circuitry well enough to get it anywhere near usable again. He had to make do with herbs, bandages, and the dregs of what replicated antibiotics he had left._

_Chakotay tried … but soon realised that he would not have that long if he stayed on the planet. He'd buried Kathryn several weeks ago, and he was now the children's only surviving guardian. And he was injured, and seriously ill from the infected wound. If Gretel and Chuen were to have any chance of survival now, then there was only one option left._

_Leave the planet, program the shuttle computer to maximise their chances of survival and rescue, and put the children into the stasis pods. Then rig up a stasis field for himself, and pray for the best._

_Putting the lid down, he sealed it, and with a whispered prayer set the controls – then watched, with Gretel, as the baby's whimpering gradually quieted over the next few minutes … until he was completely still. _

_Chakotay anxiously scanned the readouts, checked and re-checked, then pushed himself up from the pod, lurched unsteadily over to a seat, and collapsed into it. In the window above the cockpit, Gretel could see the stars streaking like spears of light around the shuttle._

"_He's ok now," he told __her, and tried to smile__._

"_But a__re you ok, father?" Gretel asked. It wasn't the first time today that she'd asked him that question._

"_I'm … all right, monkey flea," he lied."I'm just going to__ … rest up for a bit …, and wait to make sure that Chuen's ok … in the stasis pod … then it'll be your turn." He opened his eyes again, to look at her, and smiled warmly. _

"_Why can't you share Chuen's pod?" Gretel asked. "He's only little, there's plenty of room if you both went in there."_

"_These pods … __work best … when there's only one person __… __inside__,"__ Chakotay explained. "Doesn't matter how big … or how little … they are. We don't know how … long we're going to be … out here … before we get rescued. We need to __… __maximise … your chances … and Chuen's."_

"_What about you?" she asked._

"_When I know you're alright … I'll set up a stasis field here on the shuttle bench__… __for myself." He said. "It'll be almost as good __… __as a pod. I __… __will be ok, monkey."_

"_You don't look __ok, father__."_

"_Whoever rescues us … will probably have … a doctor with them."__ Chakotay said. "And … if they don't … they'll keep me in stasis … in the shuttle … until they __… __can …get me to one__."_

"_Will you be __ok, father?" Gretel asked seriously._

"_I will, Gretel," Chakotay replied. "I __… __promise you __… __that."_

-o0o-

**Starfleet Medical, Earth:**

"This isn't working!" Torres snapped, her hands flying desperately over the console. "And his signal deterioration is reaching critical! We'll have to abort! Reverse the rematerilaisation!"

She wanted to look up to check what was happening on the transporter pad, but getting Chuen's particles safely back into data form demanded every scrap of her concentration. It was only when she finished, and double-checked everything, that Torres could afford to take her eyes off the console, and take a glance at the place where, for a brief second, an infant child had almost returned to existence.

The silence around the room felt dense, almost suffocating. If someone dropped a pip now, it would clatter on the floor like a phaser rifle. Turning around to face everyone in the room, she said; "I'm sorry. The Chroniton infection was too strong. I had to stop it."

The room replied with a wave of subdued nods and low murmurs of agreement.

Torres then turned to where most of the Admirals were gathered. "The infection is not as concentrated in the other pattern. If no one objects, then we will repeat the attempt with Gretel, the girl."

As she spoke, she looked first at Chakotay and Seven … then Admiral Janeway. A nod from the three of them was all she needed.

"Molina, Vorik," she ordered, "prepare to energise the second pattern."

-o0o-

**Starfleet Quarantine Facility, Sol System, Late 24****th**** Century (Alternate):**

_The last time Gretel saw her father, he'd kissed her goodnight, gave her a smile, told her he'd loved her, then put the lid of her pod down. She watched him through the window as he worked on the pod's console, but very soon she felt sleepy, and then …_

…_She __remembered being helped off a bed, and a hand on her shoulder, keeping her steady on her feet as she walked down the hall to the transporter room. She'd been in bed a lot since waking up in the stasis pod, and she'd asked several times for her father … but everyone told her that he was in another sick bay, and she couldn't see him yet._

_Her brother was ok. She knew that because she'd eventually been allowed to visit him, after they neutralised the virus they__'d__ said she had__.__ Seeing Chuen, all pink and clean now, wriggling around in his clean blankets, calmed her a little__..__. and gave her some small sense of family continuity. Seeing her father with him as well would have made things a lot better, but all she could get from them was that he was still too sick, and wasn't ready to see her__._

_Gretel still wished that her mother was here with them in this sick bay, instead of being dead, and in the ground back on their planet. The thought of her mother still made her chest hurt, and then the tears would come, and nothing would stop them … until the hurt had eased enough that she could make them stop. _

_Then, the pain would go away for a while … until something, anything – even a random thought came along to remind her of her mother … and then the ache and the crying would happen all over again._

_Gretel missed her mother more than she could bear. She also needed her father with a desperation that was primal, but nobody would let her see him, and no' one told her exactly why she couldn't. _

_But she still had her baby brother Chuen __… and __had that timeline continued, she would have become as much a substitute mother as a big sister to him as they grew up._

_But that timeline was destined to cease __…__ as she stepped onto the transporter pad, Gretel Janeway had no way of knowing that herself, her life, and everything she'd experienced in it right now would come to exist only as bundles of living memories, no more … and no less__._

_She also had no way of knowing that all she'd been was about to end, nor could she foresee what would happen next__._

-o0o-

**Starfleet Medical, Earth:**

"Intensify the signal!" Torres ordered Molina.

"Bringing intensity up to One hundred and ten percent," he replied.

"That's not enough," she said, "take it higher!"

"One hundred and twenty percent," he said.

"Higher," said Torres. "She's still not coming through!"

"One hundred and thirty percent …"

"Attempting to remodulate signal focus." Vorik stated. "Her signal integrity is still holding."

"One hundred and thirty-five percent …"

-o0o-

**Starfleet Quarantine Facility, Sol System (Alternate):**

_As they let go of her hand, and told her to stand still on the pad, she turned her head to look back over at her baby brother, held in the arms of one of the security staff – a small, gracefully built woman with grey-streaked hair, tan skin and pointed ears. _

_Her gaze was stern, but Gretel could also sense a great kindness in her eyes. Mother was like that … and with that reminder, she again felt the hurt that always came straight before the tears._

"_Will Chuen __be transported after me?" she asked, her voice breaking__._

"_Your brother will be there after you arrive,"__ the lady said, calmly. __"Do not trouble yourself,__ for you shall find that Earth will be much to your liking."_

"_Chuen, father and I came from __a planet called New Earth," Gretel replied. "It has the pink rocks, silvermoss, coneapples and spider roots. You have to watch out for the blood wasps, they can make you sick. The monkeys sing every day when it__'__s hot. There's also the river, it has lots of places that are good to swim in__,__ but you have to have someone with you."_

_The talking seemed to push the pain inside her aside, making her feel better._

"_Where you will be goi__ng is simply called 'Earth'," the lady said. __"You will find there a wide variety of plants and __animals and land formations. They will not be familiar to you, but if you maintain an open attitude, you will come to an appreciation of them__,__ as you had for the life forms and formations of the planet that you came from."_

"_Will there be Talaxian tomatoes on this Earth?"__ Gretel asked – forgetting her grief a moment as she focused on following the lady__'s __strange, big words__._

"_Talaxian tomatoes h__ave become a popular vegetable on this planet since the return of the USS Voyager, twelve years ago." The lady said. "But child, since we have now been speaking at length, I must point out that there is a courtesy that you have omitted to do for me."_

"_Omi__tted?" Gretel asked, "What does that mean?__"_

"_It means that __you have not done something that, in the situation, you should have done," she explained. "In this case, I believe you have omitted to say something to me that it would be good manners to say."_

"_Ummmm," Gretel asked. __"I don't know. What is it?"_

"_It is considered polite practice," the lady said, "__to ask for the name of a new acquaintance before continuing a lengthy conversation__."_

"_Sorry," Gretel murmured, her face reddening. "I__ didn't mean to omit you; I forgot … I haven't met a lot of new people yet."_

"_Then I must then apologise, for my own neglectfulness in overlooking that detail in your own personal life experiences," the lady replied. "Therefore, it is up to me to show you how to act in such instances. What is your name, child?"_

"_Gretel Janeway,"__ Gretel answered._

"_And your brother, who I am holding?"_

"_Chuen Janeway."_

"_That is good," the lady said. "Now, I will give you my name, so __that you know who to call me. It is T'Rell__."_

-o0o-

**Starfleet Medical, Earth:**

"Admiral!" Nechayev shouted, "Get away from the console! Now! That is an order!"

Janeway shot her superior officer a look of pure, white-hot fury - but without saying anything, she touched a few more tabs, nodded to Torres, Molina and Vorik … and then stalked away, back to her place. "Aye, Admiral." She replied.

"This will be on your report, Janeway." Nechayev snapped.

"Acknowledged," Janeway replied curtly, her voice dangerously low. But she said nothing more, and stood stiffly by the Doctor, her face a blank mask as she watched Torres finish the transportation.

"It's improving, yes … it is definitely improving …" Torres said, her voice tight with concentration.

"Continuing to boost the Chronitonic signature phasing," Vorik said. "Her signal integrity has dropped another zero point zero six percent, but it is now holding."

"Focusing the upper spectrum wave intensity to one hundred and forty-seven percent," Molina said. "Commander … I think I can see something…"

"Tell me afterwards!" Torres snapped. "I have to concentrate!"

"Chronitonic Signature phasing is at maximum boost," Vorik continued. "Signal integrity is still holding."

"Now focusing the base spectrum wave intensity" Molina said. "… Ninety percent …"

The centre of the energy stream began to glow brighter, and it seemed as if something was forming in it.

"Ninety-eight percent …" Molina said. "Just a bit more …" replied Torres. "Just a little bit …"

Janeway glanced at Chakotay, who looked ready to sprint onto the transporter pad. Seven leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the stream.

"Ninety nine percent …"

Janeway looked back at the transporter stream, expecting to see nothing solid. What she saw instead shot her hopes up so hard that, she had to grab onto the Doctor's arm to steady herself.

-o0o-

**Starfleet Quarantine Facility, Sol System (Alternate …):**

_Gretel Janeway stepped onto the transporter pad, as T'Rell had asked her to. _

_This was the first time she'd been transported, but_ _T'Rell had told her it was safe, and she'd done it herself many times before. And if it was shown to be safe, then it was not logical to be afraid. To T'Rell, being logical seemed to have a lot to do with being good, and Gretel decided she would try to be logical and brave for her._

_She waited as someone said "Energise," and …_

… _She entered a world of shifting, shimmering light. She moved her hand … and found that doing so made her giddy and queasy. She tried to steady herself, but she couldn't regain her balance, and began to fall over in slow motion …_

-o0o-

**Starfleet Medical, Earth:**

…Gretel Janeway landed hands and knees onto a transporter pad that was a completely different colour and shape to the one she'd left.

Shel stayed there for a few seconds, head spinning. Then, her empty stomach lurched, and she started crying again, as the horrible retching spasms started.

"Father … father … I'm sick…" she sobbed. She wanted to get up, but she was so giddy and nauseous from the transportation that she daren't try. She heard light, sharp footsteps approach her on the pad, and then some heavier ones behind, which quickly caught up to the other.

Then, Gretel heard an exchange of sharp, urgent whispers between a woman and a man – then the heavier steps reached her, and she felt two strong, familiar-feeling hands gently take a steadying hold of her shoulders.

"Somebody get a clean cloth and a glass of water!" She heard a familiar voice shout, and the sound of scurrying shoes followed.

"It's ok, Gretel. Just take it quietly … I'm here."

Gretel Janeway looked up to see, through her tears, the familiar outlines of her father's face. His hair was a little greyer now, and cut much shorter than she'd remembered… but the tattoo and the mouth and the nose and the calm, brown eyes were still the same.

"Father …" she said, as he, on his knees, took her in his arms and hugged her. Then, Gretel wiped her eyes to clear them, and looked around at the room full of people.

The first thing she noticed was how colourful their uniforms were - a bold riot of reds and blues and yellows and blacks, in stark contrast to the greys and murky hues worn by the people from where she'd transported.

The next thing she noticed was that T'Rell and Chuen wasn't there.

"Father … where's Chuen? Where's T'Rell?"

"Chuen isn't here yet," Chakotay told her. "We found something wrong with his buffer pattern, and we can't bring him back until we can fix it."

"Where's T'Rell?" Gretel begged.

"There's no T'Rell here," he told her. "Was that someone you knew?"

"She's a Vulcan," she sobbed. "She was holding Chuen. She was going to transport with him after me."

"T'Rell's not in this place," he said. "But she might be somewhere else."

"Where's Chuen?"

"Chuen will be beaming in later," Chakotay replied. "He's had some problems, but they're fixing them. They'll tell us when he's ready to come here. Are you ok to stand up, now?"

"Yes," Gretel said. Chakotay helped her to her feet, and when she was steady, he handed her a hand-towel someone had given him to wipe her face properly with, and then a glass of water to sip from. "You will bring Chuen here soon?" she asked, "And T'Rell?"

"We'll try, Gretel." was all Chakotay could say.

"Hello, Gretel."

Gretel turned her head, and saw that a lady with fair skin and long dark hair was crouching down in front of them, where before there had only been father and herself. She hadn't even noticed this new lady's approach.

"Hello," the new lady said again. "I'm Deanna Troi, I'm here to talk with you when you're ready."

But before she could answer the lady, a sudden low, murmur ran through the crowd, as eyes suddenly switched from the girl on the transporter pad to someone in the crowd – who was kneeling on the floor, silent, head lowered, being held by a worried-looking bald man in a blue and black uniform … her shoulders were shaking slightly.

"Father," Gretel asked, "why is that lady in the red clothes crying?"

-o0o-

(A/N - those 'light, sharp footsteps' are *not* Janeway's, or Troi's - you'll find out who she was soon)


	9. Chapter 8: Reacquaintance

**Title: **Tabula Rasa, Chapter 8: Reacquaintance

**Author: **Ghosteye99

**Disclaimer: **The Characters and setting belong to Paramount Pictures, not me. No profit made or harm intended. This is a fanfiction, not Canon.

**Chapter Eight: Reaquaintance**

**Starfleet Medical, Earth:**

…But Admiral Janeway hadn't been crying, though she wasn't about to let everyone just know how close she'd gotten to it.

"I'm alright, Doctor" she muttered, while she forced herself to focus her mind, taking deep and steady breaths. "I just got a little giddy, that's all. I've been having a lot of late nights."

"Then you'll be coming straight to my infirmary with me, after this is all over," the Doctor replied, keeping his voice low. "Fainting and giddy spells are nothing to be taken lightly, especially at your time of life …"

"Thanks for reminding me of my mortality yet again," she murmured, and blinked her eyes. "I suppose I'd better get up…" She put her hand on the floor to steady herself, and rose to a crouch.

"Admiral," the Doctor said softly, "Look up for a moment. There's someone here to see you."

She did – and grey eyes met innocent brown ones in a face that could have come straight out of one of her own school holographs. Suddenly, everything seemed unreal; as though the world had faded out of being; save for herself, and the child standing unsteadily before her.

Gretel could only stare back, dumbstruck. Janeway could see there was still a tear trail down her cheek, and wished she had a clean handkerchief stashed somewhere on her uniform she could wipe it off with.

"Hello, Gretel." She said, cautiously.

After she spoke, the girl found her voice. 'You sound like my mother," Gretel replied. "Are you Aunt Phoebe?"

-o0o-

Admiral Nechayev watched the unfolding reunion, her own feelings cycling between irritation, and a kind of awestruck shock.

This wasn't the first time she'd witnessed such a meeting between a colleague and a lost or unknown child. Such reunions had been too emotionally charged for Nechayev's taste, and this one looked to be going the same way. She never had been one to be comfortable around extravagant displays of feeling … but there was still something about _this_ meeting that still commanded her interest.

For though it _was_ indeed a great step forward in temporal mechanics, she could also see in it a dangerous power that – unless guided by the strictest of protocols – could be exploited by reckless, foolish or unscrupulous minds.

And, as she watched the exchange between the child and the other Admiral crouched before her, Nechayev couldn't even begin yet to map out the kinds of rules that would be needed to keep control over such a factor as this…

… Her commbadge chimed, and she hit it. "Admiral Nechayev." She replied, impatiently – not appreciating the interruption.

"_This is Lieutenant O'Shea_," a woman's voice with a distinct Australian twang replied, "_you are required in your office. There is someone here to see you – code Theta_."

"Acknowledged," Nechayev replied. "I'm coming over now."

Without alerting anyone, she quickly slipped out of the room, and went on her way to her office.

-o0o-

"Gretel, I'm not your Aunt Phoebe," Janeway said. "This is going to be hard to explain right now, but I am … a lot _like_ your mother … but not exactly your mother."

"You talk just like her," Gretel replied, "and you look a lot like her, except your hair's different and you're …"

…Gretel was about to say something like '_a bit older_' and '_a little bit fatter_', but she'd quickly learnt, during her time recovering in quarantine, that being old or fat was not something most people liked being told about, especially ladies.

Even though _this_ lady was really only a _little_ bit older - and as for being fatter, that was only because she knew now that mother herself was, in next to them, very skinny - maybe even too skinny. Even T'Rell hadn't been quite that thin.

"… A bit different in other ways," she said instead, trying to be polite.

"A bit older and a bit fatter," Janeway said, cracking a smile. "C'mon, kid – you don't have to dress up the truth around _me_."

"That's what mother used to tell me, too." Gretel replied, and sat down to wipe her eyes. Janeway looked up to Chakotay – who'd also crouched down behind the girl, his own eyes blinking.

"Can I borrow your cloth?" she asked.

"Yes … here…" he replied in a hoarse whisper, handing it to her.

"Thanks," she whispered, and offered it to Gretel. "You look like you're a big enough girl to do it yourself," she said, softly.

"Mother used to say that too," Gretel sobbed, and ground the cloth harder into her eyes. "Oh, no … I omitted you … I'm sorry … lady, what's your name?"

"Kathryn," Janeway said, letting Gretel's odd choice of words pass.

"That was mother's name." Gretel replied, sceptically.

"Gretel … there's a lot of things I'll need to tell you about us, and what's just happened to you," Janeway explained. "But your father will also need to tell you a lot of things too. It'll be better if you talk to him first. Once you understand enough, you can then ask me anything you want."

Gretel nodded, and handed the cloth back to her. Janeway looked back up at Chakotay. "Will you be on Earth for a while?" she asked him, quietly.

"I will, Admiral," he replied. "Nechayev's going to arrange my re-commission training, and she'll also be overseeing it. That's one of the reasons why she was here today; she and Admiral Paris are deciding on what rank I can start from again when I've completed it."

"I thought Admiral Sulu would be the one to be your overseer," she whispered back. "He _was_ your sponsor in the Academy, after all."

"I requested him," Chakotay said, "but Admiral Sulu's on a classified mission. I wasn't even told when he's beaming out."

"I think I know," Janeway replied, remembering the bulletin list she'd read that morning before beaming to work. "But I'm not authorised to tell you either. How long will you be staying on Earth?"

"A few weeks, maybe," he said, "but depending on my assessment, it could even be half a year."

"Will Seven be staying here as well?"

"Yes, she will." He replied. "She wants to catch up again with her aunt, and some other personal business. If I'm staying longer, she's also considering taking up some qualifying courses for a yeoman's post."

"That's good," Janeway said, looking back at Chakotay. "Because I think we're all going to need a bit of time together."

Turning back to Gretel, who she was sure had been listening to everything, she said. "Gretel, I've got to go now, but I'll be seeing you again very soon. Listen _very _carefully to what your father has to say, and trust the people he says you should trust – no matter what they look like _or_ where they're from. Try to believe what he tells you about me as well. Promise me that?"

"I promise," Gretel replied.

"Good," Janeway said. "And we'll do our best to bring Chuen back as well. See that lady over there, by the console - in the black and gold uniform?"

"That lady with the Klingon face?" Gretel said, looking to where Janeway indicated.

"Her name's B'Elanna Torres, but you can call her Commander Torres. Ask your father to take you to her, because she and the two men next to her – Lieutenant Vorik," she pointed, "and Lieutenant Molina - are the ones who worked out how to make the transporter bring you here. She's also the one who'll try again to bring Chuen over so he can be here with us too. I think there's some people over there that need to be thanked."

"I will, Aunt Kathryn." Gretel said.

Janeway exchanged an amused look with Chakotay, and then he took Gretel by the hand. "Come on," he said. "Lets go see them," and he led her off to the console.

As they went, Janeway then looked around for Seven, still standing where she was as the crowd began to scatter and thin. She was still in the same spot where Chakotay had stopped her when she'd dashed to the transporter pad with him. And she was staring into space, her face in a blank, Borg-like mask - but Janeway could see the pain set in her eyes.

Janeway could guess Chakotay's motive; doubtless, their alternate selves could have told Gretel about the Borg – they'd both mentioned them several times in the logs – and if so, then the sight of Seven would have frightened her too much.

But she was still Chakotay's wife, and she couldn't be kept out of the equation forever.

It was then that she also noticed Troi was still there, standing by the edge of the transporter platform.

"_Go to her now!"_ she said to Janeway in a sharp whisper, taking her by the shoulder. "She is in considerable distress, and she knows and trusts you more than me, and she needs you to go to her _now!_"

-o0o-

**Admiral Nechayev's office, Starfleet Command, Earth:**

"So … Captain Braxton …" Nechayev said, putting her tricorder aside. "Now that I have confirmed your identity … You've called me out of an important meeting on a code Theta. You _do_ know what a code Theta is … _don't_ you?"

"I do indeed, Admiral." Braxton replied. "A code Theta represents a serious threat to the integrity of the prime timeline. I do believe that such a threat has just emerged today, _before_ your very eyes, _in_ the auxiliary transporter room, at _your_ main medical facility."

"Surely you can't mean the child we rematerialised today?" Nechayev asked.

"A child of … _Janeway's_," Braxton replied, nearly spitting the name. "And if you understand the saying that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, then believe me, the same is true of that girl," he stated. "This child will grow up to become far worse trouble than her 'mother' will be … if that is even possible!"

"Then I'll thank you for the warning,_ captain_, and we'll take that into consideration when she begins her education," Nechayev said. "May I remind _you_ that you are talking about an innocent human child. Yes, she has memories that are no longer part of this timeline, but to the best of my knowledge, none of those are of a kind that are likely to cause any real trouble."

"The main thing is," she continued, "that she and her brother have, until now, lived in isolation, and neither of them have any alternate counterparts existing here. That aside, as far as I'm concerned - and as far as my own understanding of temporal integrity goes, there's very little difference between her being transported into this timeline … or her being born into it."

"But can't you _see_?" Braxton insisted. "She does not belong in this world! She shouldn't even _exist _anymore! You have no idea what problems you're creating by letting her continue… you must dematerialise her as soon as possible, then decompile and permanently erase her pattern … and you must also do the same for the boy!"

"Very unlikely," Nechayev replied, coldly. "I can see no logical reason to take such an extreme step. I also get a sense that there's a personal agenda to your visit. I don't poke into the personnel files of subordinate officers any more than I need to, but I know enough of Admiral Janeway's history to know that there was some trouble between you and her during _Voyager's_ stranding."

"_That_ has nothing to do with it!" Braxton spluttered. "_That_ is all past and done with. _This_ is about temporal integrity, about our future! Admiral, I am only interested in protecting that! Yours … ours … _everyone's!_"

"And _I_ say that these children have as much right to exist here as any other!" Nechayev replied. "Therefore, _captain_, I think the purpose of your visit has just exhausted itself, and that it is time that you now went."

"Maybe I should have approached another Admiral," Braxton said, "I thought you'd be more resolute in regards to principals … but I can see now that your judgement in this matter is too clouded. I should have remembered. After all, how can _you_ maintain _your_ objectivity where _human_ children are involved, considering that _you_ yourselfhad one… _once_ … for a _short _while…"

"Get _out_..." Nechayev said in a low, dangerous monotone. "My own personal history has nothing to do with this. And I can assure you that the temporal risks _have_ been assessed, and they have been found to be negligible. I will not unnecessarily delete a human life, and I also have good reason to suspect that it is _your_ judgement that is more questionable. You will leave my office _now_ …" she rose from her chair and stalked around her desk towards him, hand on phaser "…_before _I call security…"

"This will not be the last you've seen of me," Braxton snarled, and turned on his heel to leave.

When the door slid shut, Nechayev looked up. "Computer!" she snapped. "Put a permanent Delta-level bio-trace on Captain Braxton's DNA, authorisation Nechayev Twelve-One-Alpha!"

"_Bio-trace on Captain Braxton has been placed."_ The Computer answered.

"Where is Captain Braxton now?"

"_Captain Braxton is no longer in the building or its proximity_"

"He beamed straight back to his ship," she muttered, then realised she'd also set her phaser to high stun. Old habits, but a reportable offence if she was caught like that without sufficient reason. She switched the weapon back to low stun, and then deactivated it.

Returning to her desk, Nechayev checked her PADD, and noted that the reprimand she'd recently given Janeway had been recorded, and she was now required by protocol to order the errant Admiral to her office for a disciplinary interview … and that the only spare time she had for that was in fifteen minutes time.

Nechayev doubted she was even in the right frame of mind to replicate her a plate of canapés, let alone chew her out - but rules were rules. With a resigned sigh, she hit her commbadge…

-o0o-

**The Main Infirmary, Starfleet Medical:**

…"Hold on please, Admiral … there's still one more place I need to scan!"

"Are you sure that's necessary, Doctor?" Janeway muttered, looking nervously around the room as a few of the other patients started looking up curiously from their biobeds.

"You mentioned that you were experiencing giddiness and fatigue, so there's still a final possibility that I _will_ need to eliminate…"

"_That's_ not even a possibility!" she hissed. "I've been living like a nun for at least the past eighteen months …"

"For some humanoid species, that is still well within the period of spermatozoic viability."

"He was human!" she replied.

_For what he was worth_, she thought.

"Presumably," the Doctor said. "But then, appearances _can_ deceive, and short-term paramours are not always noted for their honesty. Lie down please, Admiral, and take you hands away from the area …"

"I've been getting my periods…"

"Some species generate embryos that can go dormant and survive a human menstrual cycle."

"I've been keeping up with my shots …" she whined.

"I know," the Doctor replied. "Ninety-nine point forty-seven percent effective only if _both_ partners use them. Now Admiral … _Hands Off!_"

Admiral Janeway reluctantly put her hands aside; and lay back down in resignation as the Doctor gave her pelvic region a very long, slow and thoroughly drawn-out sweep of the tricorder. She could imagine the rumours that would soon be flying in all directions from the audience in the infirmary. "Are you finished?" she muttered.

"No, not yet …" the Doctor replied. She thought she could detect a slight gleefully sadistic inflection in his voice, and she began planning an appropriate way of getting even…

"Hmmm…"

_That_ made her sit up again.

"W...what is it, Doctor?" she stammered.

"Let me finish …" he said.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that some people now_ were_ staring.

Then, the tricorder made a little '_ping_' – which caused Janeway to nearly fall off the biobed.

The Doctor held it up, and said "Well, all done! _Love_ these new-model tricorders that now have a special sound for any result. You'll be happy to know that your currently unoccupied reproductive system is in remarkably good condition for one of your age. We can now safely say that your symptoms _were_ caused by by stress and chronic fatigue, after all. Today's emotional rollercoaster merely exacerbated it."

"So it's a hypospray, then" she said.

"A hypospray … along with reduced caffeine intake; and more regular sleep. The latter is up to you, but to help you with the former, I'll shortly send the appropriate restriction codes to the building's replicators."

"Well, if that's all …" Janeway slid off the biobed and put her arm over his shoulder.

"Admiral ... I must inform you that your hand is rather close to my mobile emitter …" he said.

"Doctor …" Janeway replied, "I'll let the age reference and the replicator restrictions go _this_ time. But you can do both me _and_ yourself a _big_ favour. _Next_ time you decide to give me an impromptu pregnancy scan in a public ward ... _please _activate the privacy field around my biobed. I'd appreciate a certain degree of discreetness."

"I'll … consider installing one …" he said.

"You'll _do_ it!" she growled. Then her commbadge chimed.

"Janeway here," she replied.

"_This is Admiral Nechayev_," Came the reply. "_Please report to my office immediately!_"

"On my way," she sighed. Janeway Out!"

-o0o-


	10. Chapter 9: Adjustments

**Title: **Tabula Rasa, Chapter 9: Adjustments

**Author: **Ghosteye99

******Note:** Seven's nanoprobe problem probably wouldn't hold up to Canon, seeing that in the series, she used them to resurrect a ___corpse_ that'd been dead for many hours_. _But still, anything to crank up the drama a little...

**Disclaimer: **The Characters and setting belong to Paramount Pictures, not me. No profit made or harm intended. This is a fanfiction, not Canon.

**Chapter Nine: Adjustments**

**Chakotay and Seven's Lodgings:**

The turbolift opened, and Gretel followed her father down a corridor to a plain looking door.

It looked just like one of the doors back in the medical place, where she'd only just had another of her examinations that morning. But when Chakotay keyed it open, she saw that it wasn't another infirmary, but a spacious living room instead - with decorations, strange looking plants, and windows out of which she could see the buildings and gardens of the surrounding city. Beyond that, something dark and flat and sparkled near the horizon.

"Father," She asked, "what's that?"

"What is it that you see, Gretel?" Chakotay asked.

"That there …" she pointed out the window. "…That big flat dark blue land behind the houses."

"That's the sea," he replied. "It's not land, but a great expanse of water, much like a river but bigger, and sea water has salt in it. The sea that you're looking at covers most of the Earth's surface, and this city around us was built on the edge of it."

"So _that's_ a sea," Gretel said. "You said there's a sea on New Earth once. We never got to see it."

"We probably wanted to save the shuttle fuel," Chakotay replied, trying to think quickly.

"No!" Gretel looked quizzically at him. "You _didn't_ say that … you told us the sea was too far away, but you would take us down the river to it in the boat when I got old enough!"

"I'm sorry," he replied, immediately regretting the lie. "Gretel, a lot of things have changed with me and your mother before you came here," he explained, "and there's going to be a lot I'll need to explain to you. I suppose I'll be getting a lot of things wrong for a while."

"Who was that Borg lady we went past in the room?" Gretel asked. "She scared me."

"That's one thing I think I'll need to explain now," Chakotay said, "Her name is Seven, and she's not really a Borg anymore."

"Seven is a funny name."

"She used to be called Annika," Chakotay explained; "But the Borg took her and her family when she was a little girl like you. She grew up with the name the Borg gave her, which is Seven. There's more that I have to tell you about her and me, and please listen, Gretel, because it's important."

-o0o-

**Admiral Nechayev's Office, Starfleet Command:**

The door chimed.

"Come in," Nechayev said.

"I trust that I am on time?" Janeway asked, as she entered.

"Take a seat." The other Admiral replied, briskly.

Janeway complied, and sat down.

"Now, Admiral," Nechayev said. "You are here for two reasons – but I'll start with the first. As you know, protocol requires that I follow-up on any witnessed reprimands that I've made, such as the one that I gave you earlier today. I've already filed a report on your conduct in the incident, and it's been submitted for addition to your personnel file. Now, I _will_ remind you that your behaviour in the transporter room was unacceptably reckless, highly dangerous, and completely out of line … and _not_ appropriate conduct for a Starfleet Officer."

"Admiral …" Janeway cut in, her own temper now beginning to rise…

"Let me finish!" Nechayev snapped. "You _directly_ interfered with a transport operator who was in the process of rematerialising a _sentient_ being. _That_ alone could have had_ fatal_ consequences for that being!"

"It also helped to save her life." Janeway stated.

"And it could've just as easily helped to _end_ it!" Nechayev replied.

"So, what was I supposed to do?" Janeway snapped back. "Let her signal corrupt to the point where she _couldn't_ be regenerated? _Let her die_ … when_ I _knew there was something Icould have done about it?"

A short list of protocol-correct alternatives formed on the tip of Nechayev's tongue - but she bit back on them instead, knowing how impractical they would have all been at the time. She suppressed a sigh of frustration. Janeway _had_ a point, of course … but then, so did she.

"You could have tried following my orders." She said; "They would have also worked."

"Are you certain of that?"

"Were they given a chance?"

Janeway didn't answer, so she went on; "I will include a recommendation in my report that no further disciplinary action against you be taken over this incident … but I will also warn you, Admiral. In the future, I expect you to make more of an effort to stay in control of yourself the next time you are in a similarly emotionally charged situation. If you _ever _again do something as our of order as what you just did today, demotion - or worse - _will _be seriously considered. Understood?"

"Understood," Janeway answered, flatly.

"Now that part's finished," Nechayev said, changing the subject; "I will move on to the next part. Shortly after the child Gretel was rematerialised, I received a call to my office. I had a visitor - one who may be familiar to you."

"Who?" Janeway asked, nervously. _No … please let it not be Q again_… she thought.

"Captain Braxton." Nechayev replied. "He came here asking about the rematerialisations."

"Braxton…"

The shock of that name froze dead any remaining scrap of Janeway's anger. Braxton … whose instability and vindictiveness drove him to attempt mass murder. If he could plan to blow up a ship full of innocent people just to get her, then he would not balk at trying to eliminate two children … her protective instincts jumped instantly to red alert.

"Did he make any threats?" she asked, quietly.

"He wanted to have their patterns decompliled," Nechayev bluntly answered. "Fortunately, I was able to record the exchange. It's slightly edited – for confidentiality's sake I removed some personal comments he made that were directed at me, and not relevant to the main issue. I have a copy of it on this PADD, which you will view now."

"And then, what?" Janeway asked, taking the PADD.

"I am aware that you were put under confidentiality orders by one of Captain Braxton's colleagues in regards to your encounter." Nechayev said, "But I still outrank him, regardless of the century. _My _orders will prevail. You will tell me everything you can about your encounters with Captain Braxton, and you will also give me your assessment of the threat that he poses."

"To the children?" Janeway asked.

"_And_ to everyone else involved." Nechayev replied.

-o0o-

**The Grounds Surrounding Starfleet Command:**

In the shadow of a live-oak on Starfleet Command's grounds stood Seven, almost oblivious to the increasing chill in the late afternoon sea breeze. She'd excused herself while Chakotay was outside the infirmary, waiting for Gretel to finish her physical - saying she needed to walk outside for a while.

She took one of the alien, lobed leaves, crushed the end of it between her fingers, and held it to her nose so she could sample the tannin-infused scent. It stirred no feelings or memories. Earth was supposed to be her first home, her birthplace. All she had left of her own family was here, and yet this planet still seemed so alien to her.

Chakotay had not allowed her to greet the child beside him, because he feared that she would be too frightened when she saw her Borg implants. She understood. There was logic to her husband's actions, and he'd tried to comfort her while Gretel was with the doctors … but it still hurt to be pushed aside. Right now, she was feeling more out of place than she'd ever had before.

Seven mentally told herself that those feelings were not relevant, and that they therefore should not affect her … but she still couldn't put them away.

-o0o-

When Janeway found Seven, she was hard to miss – standing under one of the well pampered live-oaks that dotted the grounds. She herself had gone outside for a few minutes to clear her head after the chaos of the last few hours, which she needed after a personal grilling from Nechayev, served with a side-order of bad news. She was only planning to duck outside for a moment, and then grab a coffee from one of the replicators. Seeing the ex-Borg, she decided to stay out a little longer to check how she was going. Janeway knew that Seven herself hadn't had an easy time either during the dematerialisation, and she had caught some of the terse little exchange with Chakotay in the transporter room. Though she understood that he didn't want Gretel to be frightened, she was also pretty sure he could have gone about it a bit less forcefully.

Thinking back to that scene, to Janeway it was as if he'd been so desperate to protect the girl, that he'd been blinkered to any other priority. Which, of course, didn't help Seven, who'd been left standing in the crowd, battling both her human feelings _and_ what was left of her Borg programming alone, with no one helping her get through_ her_ crisis.

Well, there _was _Counsellor Troi … but Seven had shut her out – Janeway assumed that she'd needed someone more familiar, that she could trust. All Troi could do was stay close, and keep watch until someone came by who she could grab for help. Janeway was thankful that someone turned out to be her … but she knew it would have been a lot better for Seven if it had been Chakotay instead.

"Hello, Seven," she said in greeting. Seven turned her head, and nodded once.

"Good afternoon, Admiral," she replied.

The little human inflections had started come back to her voice, much to Janeway's relief. "It's been a pretty eventful day, don't you think?" she said.

"But also a partially successful one," Seven replied, relaxing a little more. "Admiral, I must also thank you for staying with me earlier."

"Oh, it was nothing." Janeway said. "My old crew is still family to me, wherever they may happen to be now."

"Still," Seven said, "I am grateful."

"Chakotay didn't hurt you too much?"

"Admiral," Seven replied, a little shocked. "He would not be capable of that. My physical strength is …"

"No, no … I don't mean in _that _way," Janeway said, "and I know he wouldn't be the sort to try that, anyway. But emotionally; him brushing you aside like that … it _must _have felt bad for you."

Seven dipped her head, silent for a moment. "Chakotay did not want Gretel to be unduly alarmed by my presence." She explained.

"I understand that, too." Janeway said. "But he could have treated you better. Been a little less abrupt."

"He was highly preoccupied with the child's welfare."

Janeway thought for a moment. "Did Chakotay show you any of the holos or logs from Gretel's past?" She asked.

"He did, some of them." Seven replied, and then blushed. "Mostly those of the children. I chose not to view the … more intimate ones."

"That's how I'd hoped he would do it." Janeway said. "The children - how did you feel toward them, when you saw them?"

"At first, I found the scenes unsettling to look at." Seven replied, honestly. "I perceive of Chakotay primarily as my husband, and I found it uncomfortable to see him in another past, paired with another mate … and …" Her expression suddenly changed, as if a shadow passed across her mind. She gritted her teeth and shut her eyes tight - as though her pain was physical, instead of another kind.

"It's ok …_Seven_ …" Janeway said, trying to reassure her. Without thinking, she put her hand on her arm. "This is a different timeline. This is not how things are now."

"It … is not … sexual jealousy … of your other self … of having him as a mate, Admiral …" Seven said. "It is that … when I saw that family, it was a reminder that even though I am still young … I have only recently learnt that ... it may be unlikely that I will be capable of … doing the same … with him."

"Seven, what do you mean?"

"Before the rematerialisation, I was informed of my test results," Seven said. "Though the Borg … left most of my reproductive system intact... I was aware that it was likely that I would require assistance to … conceive. Chakotay and I had recently been discussing that possibility. Some months before we disembarked, I had submitted an inquiry into whether it was possible I would be able to physically incubate my own offspring. I had undergone a number of tests, and submitted some samples to Starfleet Medical ... it was discovered," Seven continued, "that there is a ninety eight-point-nine-point-eight likelihood that … if an embryo ever began to develop in my body ... my nanoprobes would … destroy it ... as a foreign parasite. I have since further inquiries about the issue. They could be reprogrammed them to accept an embryo, but that would be very difficult … and the process would also be potentially dangerous for me, as it would disrupt the cybernetic system that my nanoprobes support."

"Did the Doctor tell you that?" Janeway asked.

Seven nodded. "I have also consulted five other medics on that matter, and all have come to a similar conclusion."

"Oh …." Janeway was at a loss for words. "Seven, I'm so sorry…"

Confession done, Seven relaxed a little. "I was emotionally affected by that news, and therefore inadequately prepared for the rematerialisation," she said. "When I saw Gretel Janeway materialise on the platform, I did not realise the extent to which my attachment to her had developed."

Janeway nodded slowly. She too understood the feeling. "Chakotay would have felt the same way," she said. "She might be the one chance of biological fatherhood for him."

"Would you have pushed him aside," Seven asked, "if you had known that his presence would have caused extreme distress to your child?"

"I don't know …" Janeway thought. "But if I did have to keep him away, I hope I would have been kinder about it."

"Once, on _Voyager_," Seven said, "you spoke with me about human empathy."

"I remember that conversation," Janeway said. "And I know how this is relevant. Chakotay felt what you and I felt. We _all_ had time to become a lot more bonded to those children than we'd realised. One of them becoming real again triggered a lot of emotion between us … and I know that Chakotay's feelings can run very deep. I still think he needs to have a talking-to, but I suppose you have a point. Maybe we should be careful about judging him merely on one thing that he did today."

Seven looked thoughtful. "I believe that it is time we should find him," she said, "and the four of us become acquainted in a more suitable way. He was not in our lodgings when I returned, but he left a note for me stating that he would be at Starfleet training area Victor-Nine. Gretel would have completed her physical. They would both be in the specified area by now."

"C'mon," Janeway said, seizing the opportunity to brighten what had been an overly stressful day. "I know that place; it's quite nice when it's not being used. I've got an hour before I'll need to be anywhere else important today, and I know a good replimat kiosk just a few streets down. We'll get something to share, and beam over to meet them on the beach."

-o0o-


	11. Chapter 10: Circles in the Sand

**Title: **Tabula Rasa, Chapter 10: Circles in the Sand

**Author: **Ghosteye99

**Note: **Time for a kind-of fluffy interlude, whilst a few little storm clouds gather.

**Disclaimer: **The Characters and setting belong to Paramount Pictures, not me. No profit made or harm intended. This is a fanfiction, not Canon.

**Chapter Ten: Circles in the Sand**

**A Starfleet Training Beach, San Francisco:**

Thanks to some old _Voyager _connections, Chakotay had been able to quickly pull the strings he needed to take Gretel out to a secure, Starfleet-owned training beach that wasn't scheduled for use that afternoon. It was somewhere more private, where they were less likely to meet with unwanted attention. _That_ was something he knew the girl would not need right now, innocent as she was to the public interest her resurrection had been gathering. When Seven still hadn't returned, Chakotay had decided to go on ahead, and left a note for her on the table. He hoped she would be joining them soon, he'd already had her entrance to the beach cleared by the Admiral in charge of the facility, and she would know about that in the note.

"The water's salty!" Gretel said, taking the tip of her finger from her mouth.

"I said it would be," Chakotay replied, with amusement.

"And this water goes_ all _the way around the world?" she asked again, awed.

"It does," he said. "And this sea helps to balance our climate, otherwise most of the land on this planet would be either a hot or cold desert."

"I don't think I'd like _that_," Gretel said. "I sometimes think the river on New Earth is alive. The sea looks alive too."

"In many human cultures," Chakotay continued, "the sea _is_ alive. To those who believe that, they see the sea as a great mother. Even if _you_ don't believe that the sea is a kind of person, it still is like a mother. A great variety of life exists within it, and if nothing poisons or depletes it, it can nourish everything it holds. Even the plants and animals that live on land all once had ancestors that came from it."

"Even us?" she asked.

"Yes, even us," he replied. "And while we are by the sea, there's some more things I want to explain to you. They're about where you came from, and how you got here, and this sand can help me to show it to you. Come over here, and watch carefully."

Gretel obeyed, and crouched down next to Chakotay's feet.

"It's like this." He took a thin stick of driftwood, and knelt down to draw a circle in the sand. "Imagine this circle is like the time along which we live our lives; from childhood to adulthood to old age. Where I started drawing the circle is when we are born, and where I stopped drawing is when we die."

He then poked some dots and scrapes in the sand, some of them on and next to the line of the circle, others were inside it, or far outside.

"Now, think of those dots as the things that happen to us in that life," he explained. "Each is a person you met, or something important that happened, or that you did …"

"Like that," Gretel said, quickly catching on to what Chakotay was explaining, and pointing to a dot next to the line. "That was when we all went down the river in the summer and found those musk-lemon trees," she said, "and you found that big red feather that you put in your medicine bundle, and mother found the rock with the little crystal cave in it for me."

Pointing to a bigger, deeper hole touching the line, she added, in a sadder voice; "…and t_hat_ was when mother died, and you got hurt, and we had to leave. This one," she pointed to a wavy scrape that crossed the circle just after it, "That's today, when I came here. The little white pointy thing next to it is Chuen, who's not come here yet."

"That's a seashell," Chakotay replied, "they live in the sand on the bottom of the sea, and when they die, the shells are washed up on the beach."

"Like the river shells on New Earth," Gretel said. She poked sadly at the tiny, pale spiral with a dried bit of seaweed. "I hope that doesn't happen to Chuen. I want him to live … father, what's that pink stuff coming out of the end?"

"Don't poke it!" Chakotay said. "That's the animal that lives inside the shell; it means that one's not dead. But if you poke it, you _will _hurt it, and it might die."

"Will it be alright?" she asked, aghast at what she'd almost done.

"It probably needs to go back in the water," he replied, "Seashells live under water. That might be why it came out, because it wanted to go back into the sea."

"The sea's too far away for it to go there by itself," Gretel said.

Chakotay carefully picked up the shell and held it out to her. "Put it in your hand, very carefully," he said, "and come with me, and we'll take it back."

-o0o-

"Remember the circle I drew," Chakotay explained, after he and Gretel had returned from their rescue expedition. "That was an ordinary timeline. This is what happens when someone's timeline becomes changed."

He wiped out part of the circle he'd drawn earlier, and replaced it with a wiggly line instead. Then, he wiped out all the dots and dashes that had touched the line, and added a few new ones in their place.

"When a timeline is changed," he said, "all the things that happen which are part of it become changed as well. It won't change everything;" – he pointed the stick over the dots outside and inside the changed circle. "Those are the things that won't be changed, because they are too far away from the line. Like if something happened that stopped me from being born…"

"I don't like thinking of that," Gretel said, with a small shiver that made her hug herself.

"I don't, either," Chakotay said. "But … say that something _did_. If I was stopped from being born, then you would not have been born as well, nor would have Chuen. You and I wouldn't be here now, talking on this beach. But _this beach_ would still be here. That would not change."

"How would you know those other things ever happened, if everything's gone?" Gretel asked.

"Sometimes, signs are left over from the other timeline." He explained. "Do you remember that tall man with the dark hair and red uniform we talked to, after you met your … aunt … Kathy?"

"Yes," she replied. "You said that's Commander Kim."

"He still has a message that he got once, from a future self he had. That self, and a lot of things he'd done no longer exist, because that other self also did something that changed things back in time, and also changed his timeline."

"Why did his other self do it," Gretel asked, "If it would make him not exist anymore?"

"Because he made a mistake that got everyone on his ship killed, except him … and me," Chakotay said. "The people who died included your aunt Kathy, Commander Torres, Seven, Lieutenant Molina and Vorik. They all died, because of that one mistake he made."

"But if they died, why are they all here now?"

"Because the other Harry changed his timeline," he replied. "He found out a way to send some messages to the past, and someone on the ship listened to it, did what it told, and they lived instead. That's why Harry still keeps one of those messages, because it is important to him. It reminds him of what could have happened, and how precious his friend's lives are."

"Who was the one who listened to the messages Harry sent?" Gretel asked again. "I think that person would be very happy they helped to save everyone."

"It was Seven."

"The _nice_ Borg lady?"

"Yes," Chakotay said, "and don't ever forget that. She and Harry helped save a lot of people that day, and don't also forget that Seven wasn't always a Borg. She started her life as an ordinary human girl, one who was a lot like you."

Gretel shivered again. "Why can't someone go back into the past for Seven, so that she didn't have to become a Borg?" she asked. "It would have been nice if she could have grown up normal."

"Most of the time, changing time is against the rules. The other Harry would have got into a lot of trouble, if someone had found out what he was going to do. Or the other Aunt Kathy, too."

"Another Aunt Kathy also changed our timeline?"

"Yes, she did." Chakotay said, "And for the same reasons the other Harry did, because her old self knew there were a lot of people who were killed in her old timeline that she didn't think had to die. So she found out a way to stop it from happening."

"Why didn't our Harry or Aunt Kathy get into trouble?" she asked.

"Because the other ones, who broke the rules, stopped existing," Chakotay replied, "and _our _ones couldn't be punished, because it wasn't _them_ that did anything wrong."

"It's silly," Gretel said. "Why should they have to have rules against changing timelines? I think doing that's good. You can help people."

"If the Borg hadn't taken Seven," Chakotay explained, "She would not have been able to receive the other Harry's message, and help save the ship. Her time with the Borg gave her abilities that let her do that."

Gretel looked at him, stunned.

"Changing a timeline has other effects," he continued. "Who knows if the other Harry or Aunt Kathy might have had a family before they changed time? By changing the timeline to save others, those families probably won't exist now."

"They could still have another family …" Gretel suggested.

"Would they be the same people?" Chakotay replied.

Gretel had no answer - or further question - for that one.

After they'd both reflected on things for a moment, Chakotay asked; "Do you want to know why I'm telling you all this about timelines?"

Gretel looked up, anxiously. "Yes." she said.

"Because that's why you're here." He said. "That's why I seem different and older, and your Aunt Kathy does as well. Someone … we don't know who, and we don't know why … changed the timeline so that my life and your mother's went differently to the way it had been when _you_ lived in it."

"You mean … they changed it so that mother _didn't_ die?"

"That could have been a reason," Chakotay replied, "but yes. The timeline was changed, and your mother didn't die … but it also meant that now, she and I never got together, and that you and Chuen were never born in this timeline. The ship came back for us; we went back to our duties, and we stayed just friends. Eventually, when we got home, Kathy went her own way and I married Seven."

"Does that mean that Aunt Kathy …?" Gretel said, realisation dawning on her.

"Aunt Kathy is the same person that your mother was, and I am the same person that your father was." Chakotay explained.

"But why am I still here?" she asked. "Why didn't I stop existing?"

"Because someone worked out a way of saving you and Chuen before the timeline was changed." Chakotay explained. "Remember Harry's message? We can turn people into something like a message as well. When people use a transporter, their bodies turn into a signal that can be saved, though it's not always a good idea to do it too long because it can go wrong. Someone worked out a way to save you and Chuen as a transporter signal, and sent you both back in time to the ship your parents came from. They sent with you something that saved your mother and me, but we don't know what that is yet."

Gretel couldn't speak for a while. Her head was swimming with thoughts … _her mother, Aunt Kathy_ … except that she wasn't Aunt Kathy but her mother. Chuen, who was still horribly stuck in half-existence. Father, the one figure of continuity who'd been her anchor, except he'd just told her he wasn't the same father she'd known… but he still was her father; she knew that in her bones. And what did father mean by being 'saved?' They hadn't let her see him in before she was transported … _Did he die too …?_

"I know this is confusing," Chakotay said. He sat down next to her, and looked out to the sea. "But whoever did this also sent their logs and holos of New Earth. If you like, Gretel I can show you some of them …"

"Father," Gretel began to ask, "Why didn't you and Aunt Kathy…"

"May we join you?" a familiar, slightly husky voice asked, cutting off Gretel's question.

It was Kathryn's voice. Chakotay turned around to see her and Seven walking down the beach to meet them. Seven carried a blanket, and Kathryn – still in uniform – was holding a small carry-bag. Refreshments, he hoped. He put his hand on Gretel's shoulder.

"Well, little monkey," he said, unconsciously using the pet name from the dreams. "What do you say to your mother and your step-mother, now that they've come to join us?"

-o0o-

**Two Light****-****Years From Earth, 21****st**** Century:**

Braxton knew, from personal experience, what too many time jumps could do to what remained of his health. He took out another hypospray and applied it to his wrist, but the nausea still lingering from the last jump didn't quite go away.

Never mind … he had other ways of getting what he wanted done.

Bringing up a list of names on his screen, Braxton began to pick some out from that a shortlist of those he thought would be most suitable for his plans. It took him the best part of an hour, but he was satisfied with his candidates.

"_Elisa__ D. Stone: Human: Starfleet Ensign … Aaron L. Sands: Human: Starfleet Lieutenant … Kierl: Trill (unjoined): cruiser pilot, Trill government __… Marla Lessing__: Human: Federation civilian engineer (ex-Starfleet) … Brex Mosley: Betazoid: Federation civilian freighter Captain … Carlos Lang: Human: Starfleet Doctor (Rank: Lieutenant)__… __James R. Hunter: Human: Starfleet Commander … Valain Torin: Bajoran: physicist, Bajoran government …"_

He briefly re-read through the list of human and non-human names he'd selected. All were suitably positioned to carry out his intentions, and all possessed a neurological trait that made them sufficiently vulnerable to a special tool he'd brought with him - one that he'd built and adapted from stolen 23rd Century blueprints, and which was now installed on his ship, safely hidden in the mid 21st century. The device was not originally designed to be used between timelines; that was why he'd gathered his list. They would serve as his network, doing the work that he couldn't do. He'd already tagged the first of his marks himself; the time jump he took to reach her was at great risk to his health, but thanks to the hypospray, he seemed to be getting over it. He hoped he'd chosen wisely; she seemed the most suitable of them all. Now that contact was established, he would see how well she would perform when he started pulling the strings.

Braxton knew that he was doing was highly illegal in several centuries, but he cared little about that now. He was confident he could cover his tracks long enough to put things right, and even if he did get caught, so long as it happened after he'd succeeded, then it would all be worth it. And they would praise him for it in time … when the galaxy would eventually come to accept his reasons. With Janeway taken out of the picture, he'd been told, not only would he finally be vindicated and free to find peace, but time would once again run as it should – his allies had promised him of that, and so far they'd given him little reason to doubt their knowledge or sincerity.

But it was not just about removing Janeway or her progeny, even if they'd told him often enough how she was destined to become one of the greatest time criminals in history. His allies had also expressed great concern that, in the current main timeline, 24th Century citizens were beginning to develop ways to create gates between realities, and he had come to share with them a conviction that this had to be stopped.

Braxton knew that his allies built many similar gates, aeons ago, but they'd assured him that they had the wisdom to do so in a way that was in harmony with the natural order of the universe. They'd told him it was highly unfortunate that he'd failed to intervene in the rematerilaisation of the first of Janeway's offspring, but he'd assured them that he would be able to arrange things so as to discourage any further attempts. That seemed to satisfy them; they had much less sympathy earlier, when he'd tried to explain that he'd been too sick from time-jumping to be able to have done a better job of the sabotage.

But removing Janeway was the first priority … the woman didn't know yet of the violations she would commit, but if there was one thing Braxton knew for certain, it was that she _would_ take the side of chaos over order when the time came. He'd already had a taste of how cunning and stubborn she could be, and he would have to strike soon, within the next eighteen months, if he was to have the best chance of cornering her, and manipulating her into a position where he could ensure that both she and, if possible, her offspring would no longer be a factor.

After that, time and history would forever stay pure … and history would remember him with gratitude. His allies assured him of that, and they'd always kept their promises before.

Scanning the list again, Braxton selected the name of the Human he'd contacted, and patched the details he'd had on her through to the device's workstation.

_Marla Lessing_

She was pliable, but also neurologically resilient; and she also had a lot of useful engineering knowledge and little status in her society – that was why he chose her first. Controllable, unimportant, and good for enduring a lot of time-jumps before she would become too used-up. Marla would definitely do, to start off with. Braxton, feeling clearer-headed now that the nausea had finally began to subside, got up and went over to the console he'd converted to house the Neural Neutraliser that he'd installed in the timeship, and began to program it.

-o0o-


	12. Chapter 11: Routines

**Title: **Tabula Rasa, Chapter 11: Routines

**Author: **Ghosteye99

**Notes: **I decided to add some small nods to Star trek Online 25th Century Game Canon, in regards to hints of political changes. Most of these won't be important to the rest of the plot.

_koon-ut-kal-if-fee _= the Canon Vulcan ritual death battle, one of the few ways a Pon Farr can be resolved.

**Disclaimer: **The Characters and setting belong to Paramount Pictures, not me. Some history settings mentioned after this chapter belong to Star Trek Online (Owned by Perfect World, and previously Atari). No profit made or harm intended. This is a fanfiction, not Canon.

**Chapter Eleven: Routines**

**An Apartment Somewhere in Detroit, Two Weeks Later:**

Marla Lessing still felt more comfortable using the stairs to her flat, rather than taking the lift - not that she considered it much of an inconvenience, since it helped to keep up her fitness. Noah would be going to work in a couple of hours, but she'd been able to finish her job earlier than she'd expected, so she would have some precious extra time today to spend with him and Joshua.

Two floors down from home, her head suddenly begun to spin, and she put her hand against the wall to steady herself. She waited for the giddiness to abate, but instead it only got worse – and she had to sit down to avoid falling.

A possibility came to Marla's mind … but she quickly dismissed it - she'd only finished her last period two days ago. _God_, she thought … _I hope this is not a panic attack, or another blackout like that one I had two weeks _…

… She never finished the thought - for her mind suddenly became filled with a babel of voices just before everything around her went grey...

-o0o-

**Starfleet Command, the 35****th**** Century:**

"Oh, and Juel … just before you go, I have something that High Command has asked me to give you."

Lieutenant Commander Juel Ducane paused to look back at Admiral Rachael Crusher, who'd just finished briefing him on his latest mission. "Admiral?" he asked.

"You'll be needing these." Rachael replied, with a knowing smile, as she handed him a sealed plain paper envelope. It looked lumpy, and he could feel something small and hard inside it. "Might be a good idea for you to open it now," she added.

"Yes, Ma'am!" Ducane replied. He tore open the package to reveal the two little brass collar buttons it held. He weighed them in his hand, studied the way they flashed like gold in the light – and looked back up at the Admiral, dumbstruck.

"I thought Captain Jellico was going to take over from Braxton," he said quietly, thinking of his former captain, who'd recently escaped custody and was now missing – along with a small timeship. Part of the mission orders he'd just received were to find, and apprehend him. The other part was to do with Admiral Janeway … but that was confidential. Only after he had Braxton secure, would he then be told what his orders were with her.

"Andrea has requested command of the _Voyager S_." Admiral Crusher replied. "You've been fast-tracked, _Captain_ Ducane. Now I know this is a bit of a jump – but considering the situation, and after looking at your service record, we believe that you are more than ready to fully command a ship of your own now. I also believe that you are the best of our people to oversee this mission, so consider the _Relativity_ to be officially your's now. Now then, put those pips on, and you can give me back that black one – it'll have to be recycled unfortunately; new security regulations have just come in about hoarding old insignia."

-o0o-

**Commander Torres's Workshop, Starfleet Engineering:**

Torres and Molina painstakingly ran their tricorders through their workshop, which was currently in a state of shambles the morning after last night's break-in and ransacking. "Molina, are you finding anything else?" Torres asked.

"I've detected recent traces of human DNA that are not from any of our staff or recent visitors," Molina replied. "It's mostly from settled skin flakes, but there's been very little deterioration, and there's not a lot of them. That suggests the damage may have been done by a recent visitor, probably someone who hasn't been here before."

"You're pretty good," she said. "And if you're right, then that's going to make finding whoever did this a whole lot easier, and quicker."

"I haven't forgotten a lot of the old tricks from back when I was on _Voyager's_ security team," he replied with a small grin. "Though I'm now kind of glad that I let my wife talk me into switching to engineering, in other ways, I sometimes miss all the detective work that went with my old job."

"I'm detecting a few things here as well," Torres said, giving one of the workshop's security sensors a very slow sweep. "This sensor is definitely showing signs of tampering, but whoever did this was pretty inventive, and knew what they were doing. The anomalies are only showing up on a level eleven scan, and even then these new-issue tricorders are barely detecting them."

"At least the remaining buffer pattern hasn't been taken," Molina noted.

"Thanks to that clever security idea you suggested," Torres agreed, and the two of them made no further mention of _that_ while in the room... just in case the intruder had left behind any listening devices. It never hurt to be thoroughly careful in such situations.

"Still," Molina added, "It looks like some other things as well as the original logs are gone. There's a lot of items that should be in this room that I can't find, including some _very_ classified equipment parts and blueprints."

"It's a pity that Vorik can't be here to help us with that," Torres said, referring to their Vulcan colleague who was currently absent on medical leave, due to the sudden onset of his third Pon Farr. "He had the best idea of everything that we kept in this room. But I think, with what we've already found; we'll soon be able to get to the bottom of this."

"Hang on!" Molina said, suddenly. He looked at his tricorder, scanned something on a console, and then looked at the readings again. "Commander," he said quietly, "come here, and have a look at this!"

-o0o-

**Admiral Janeway's Apartment:**

Janeway flopped back on her bed, still in her uniform, exhausted after another intensely frustrating working day. She'd spent the past two weeks in a losing struggle with her superiors, who wanted to completely dismantle the already severely downgraded Pathfinder project. Though few still used it - she herself mainly to keep in touch with Neelix - she still felt that it was vital for the Federation to retain a link with the Delta Quadrant.

Beside which, the now aged Talaxian had recently passed on to her some more new and disturbing rumours of an increase in local sightings of both wrecked Borg cubes and 8472 bioships – and many of them were getting alarmingly closer to the Alpha Quadrant. It was developments like that which she knew had to be watched very closely ... but there were too many over-comfortable fools in Starfleet's Upper Brass who still wanted to discard their only eyes and ears in that part of space, refusing to seriously believe that the Borg could rebuild their corridors, or that 8472 might make it to Earth's doorstep within their lifetime.

There'd also been recent worrisome news about a growing number of factions within the Klingon Empire seeking to overturn the Khitomer Accords, and bring back the old days of war and conquest. That those factions existed was old news to the Federation, what concerned Starfleet was the increasing grassroots support they were gaining.

There were also reports from cross-universe sources over at Deep Space 9 that, though the Terran rebellion was going from strength to strength against the Alliance, it was also showing signs of reverting to the old, barbaric ways of its former Empire – _and_ considering making inroads beyond the Mirror Universe. Janeway knew in her bones that, though things seemed peaceful enough now, no one could afford to become complacent.

She'd often, in her spare moments, thought of the future that the children of _Voyager's_ crew would face. She felt certain that all of them would know war well before they began to grow old. She thought of Gretel, Miral and Icheb, and all the others whose young lives were already marked with turmoil. And Naomi Wildman … an unpleasant image crossed her mind, of a mother grieving in front of a desktop screen. Janeway shook her head; that was the result of sending too many condolence messages. She gave her forehead another hard rub as she forcibly put that thought away.

Thankfully, the Borg that were still left in the Alpha and Beta quadrants were not a major threat … for now. Isolated cubes were still being regularly detected wandering Federation space. Unable to self-propagate, or assimilate as freely as they once did, it was predicted they would gradually dwindle to extinction in those Quadrants.

Some remote colonies still reported assimilation raids, but these were now rare - the Borg nowadays usually fled at the first sign of a properly armed Starship. The Romulans and Cardassians were also still low on the Starfleet threat list; both cultures were still too busy rebuilding from what little they had left to waste precious resources on conquests.

In matters closer to home, Janeway had been told about the previous night's break-in at Starfleet Engineering. She'd read the report, and had taken time in her midday break to see the damage for herself. She was thankful that Chuen's buffer pattern had not been stored there – even though that was supposed to be the 'official' safekeeping place. Torres was reluctant to tell even her where he was actually kept, but Janeway didn't push it – her own instinct telling her that wherever her unmaterialised child was, Torres could be trusted to ensure that he was safe.

And, after the emotional turmoil of the regeneration and a brief few days of bliss, the realities of sharing the parenting of Gretel on top of an already demanding schedules were hitting her, Chakotay and Seven with its full weight. Not for the first time, she thought of Torres, Wildman and even her own mother – as well as every other officer she knew with a young child – with a renewed sense of respect for all of them.

She knew that the honeymoon was also long over for Gretel - adjusting to her changed life hadn't always been easy for her since she arrived. After an easygoing life of flexible schedules, open spaces and a lot of freedom, she had problems adjusting to the closed-in regimen of school. Her teachers found her to be far ahead in some subjects – especially the sciences, but lagging behind in many others.

It was also obvious that though her parents on New Earth had done their best to educate her, there were limits to what a child could learn from just two adults. Only having had them to relate to, Gretel was finding the little nuances of child-to-child interaction to be like having to learn a confusing foreign language. As a result, she was beginning to be ostracised by most of her peers – especially many of the other human girls, who found her to be seemingly too 'snobbish' and 'weird' for their tastes.

Even with the meagre company she won, Janeway suspected that she still spent most of her school hours wishing for their end, so she could be back with her father, or Aunt Seven, or 'Aunt' Kathryn. She still remained far more at ease with adults than she did around other children.

And her own share of responsibility to Gretel would soon increase – currently, the girl was living regularly with Seven and Chakotay, and paying visits to her. But with Chakotay's return to Starfleet, Seven also wanted to be able to work for them as a civilian, and to be able to do this, she'd applied for a number of courses to gain the needed qualifications. Chakotay's re-training would also take him away for the first of three wilderness drills, all of which meant that Gretel would soon be spending much more of her after-hours time with Janeway.

She wasn't sure how well she would handle that when the time came; even Gretel's visits still filled her with as much anxiety as anticipation. But, regardless of that and the extra demands she would have to meet, Janeway was looking forward to spending more time with her daughter.

-o0o-

**Starfleet Training Reserve, South Africa, Five Days Later:**

Admiral Jellico kept a close eye on the mixed lines of cadets and returnees as they jogged beside him. "Keep in line!" He barked, "Anyone I see slacking off will be rounded up for four hours of penalty drills tonight!"

Chakotay, jogging along with the other trainees, was thankful for the physically active life he'd kept up since coming back. Cutting wood, running messages, hauling loads and building things while back on Dorvan kept up his stamina and fitness, and even under the late spring heat in full uniform, he easily held his pace even against most of the younger ones. He even allowed himself a little quiet amusement whenever he saw any cadet less than half his age fall behind him.

"Company halt!" Nechayev ordered from the back of the group. Chakotay and the others stopped in their tracks, and stood at ease. Nechayev walked up the line, randomly calling out the names of those she passed – including Chakotay's.

When she got to the other end, she turned around and said; "Everyone whose name I've called will take one step to the left of the line." Chakotay and the rest of those called complied.

"You will be the Alpha group," she said, "and you will be coming with me. The rest of you …" she looked at those left behind in the other line; "…you are the Beta group, and you will be going with Admiral Jellico. Alpha group, you will now all line up!"

Chakotay thought he could just hear a groan from a human cadet behind him, and he sympathised with him – a little. Since going out on the three-week wilderness drills, it soon became apparent who was the 'easier' of the two Admirals to train under.

There was a semi-secret (and joking) consensus among most of the younger cadets was that, whilst Jellico was merely an unusually tough Humanoid, the hard pace Nechayev set indicated that she _surely_ had to be an Android. There were even playful dares going around them, about who would sneak up on her, to see if there really was an access panel on her head – though of course, no' one was foolish enough to actually_ try_ it. Rumour in the camp also had it that she was supposedly also on leave of some kind, though Chakotay personally thought that hiking through the African bush wasn't that bad a holiday idea.

One cadet he noticed who didn't complain or joke about the Admiral was a second-year woman, whose severely handsome features showed the signs of her mixed Bajoran and Cardassian heritage. Chakotay knew little about her - except that Admiral Picard was her sponsor, that her name was Ro Mera, that she'd been born in a Cardassian prison camp, that her mother was a former Starfleet Officer who'd disappeared before she was old enough to walk … _and_ that she preferred not to discuss her family or her early life.

As they jogged off into the bush with Nechayev beside them, he noticed Ro's demeanour remained as stoic as that of the two Vulcans who shared their group. Chakotay thought of the missing Starfleet officer Captain LaForge mentioned back on the _Challenger_, but he couldn't make assumptions – Bajorans were bound to have families as extended and widely scattered as many Human ones, for all he knew.

-o0o-

Chakotay had managed to keep up with the demands of Nechayev's own gruelling version of a wilderness march – he was one of only five from his group who'd performed well enough to be allowed to finish up on time, along with Ro Mera, Tolek and T'Ralk - the two Vulcans - and Bron Asych, a Betazoid cadet. He'd almost blown his reward though, when he'd decided - out of a deep-ingrained sense of communal solidarity - to rejoin the penalised ones, but Bron had grabbed his elbow before the Admiral could notice, and virtually dragged him back to the tents. They sat in a circle after finishing their rations, talking about nothing of great importance – as Nechayev was still within earshot, busily barking the other trainees through their penalty drills.

Jellico's Beta group were yet to return, but there was still an hour of daylight left. Chakotay took in the sea of dry grass and red sand around them, and watched the birds darting and arguing in and out of the distant thorn trees. Bron was deeply engaged in conversation with the two Vulcans, while Ro – like Chakotay - remained silent. She sat hunched, resting her arms over her knees and appearing to be staring at the ground … but he could see the quick movements of her dark eyes out the corners of his own, and knew she was quietly watching everyone.

Details of the conversation floated into his consciousness as he meditated. The topic had recently turned to Tolek's parents, the exploits of whom he was describing in the usual bland Vulcan style, though Chakotay thought he could detect the barest hints of pride.

Tolek's father, Sovik, was a junior Science officer on a Vulcan research ship. His mother (whose name he couldn't quite catch, because just as Tolek said it, Nechayev had the other trainees yelling "Yes Admiral!" loudly back at her several times) was a seasoned and respected captain - who'd achieved Kolinar by the age of forty, and who'd accrued a formidable list of scientific and tactical achievements.

Had it not been for a transporter malfunction resulting in the two being stranded together on a remote planet, the two would probably never have paired. As it was, by the time they'd eventually managed to unphase themselves, their ship had left them for dead.

When Sovik came into his second Pon Farr soon afterwards, Tolek's mother refused _koon-ut-kal-if-fee_ with him, believing it illogical to engage in an unequal and potentially fatal fight when both were unpaired, and needing each other's assistance for survival. His eldest sister resulted from the bond, and seven years later Tolek himself was born, a few days after his parents were rescued by another Vulcan ship that by chance was passing through the system.

Chakotay took interest in the story, since it was in many ways similar to what could have happened with him and Kathryn back on New Earth. When Tolek began to speak of the lengths his parents went to in raising his sister, Ro suddenly got up, and stalked back to her tent without a word. Bron raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

A commotion of shouts and tramping boots announced the arrival of Jellico's group, and soon everyone was back on their feet, and standing at ease in line as tomorrow's duties were assigned. After that, those of Nechayev's group who'd avoided the penalty drills were put on Alpha watch, while Jellico's group and the others were finally allowed their rations and ablutions, and then bed. Chakotay was on first with Tolek, and for the next three hours, he would have plenty of time to think, and a lot to think about.

-o0o-

**Admiral Janeway's Office:**

"Marla Lessing?" Janeway said, suppressing a surge of alarm. On her desktop screen, Torres nodded in reply. "Yes," she answered, "Starfleet Security has backed up what we got with its own findings. It's been confirmed that it is very likely that she had been in the room on the night. She's now the main suspect."

"Where is she now?"

"She was taken into custody for questioning, that's all I know." Torres replied.

"Well, keep me informed on any developments with that." Janeway said, "As well as any further findings on those Chroniton particles MoIina found in her DNA traces. I know that the Lessings didn't have the easiest of pasts with you or I, but robbing your workshop? That doesn't make much sense!"

"Whoever it was took the original logs from the phase anomaly, as well as a number of experimental parts and blueprints - all classified." Torres said. "Perhaps she was looking for something to use as blackmail … or some_one_ to use as a hostage. I never guessed her as the kind of person to do that, but I've been mistaken before."

"What so you mean by _who?_" Janeway asked. "Do you mean the other buffer pattern?"

"Yes," Torres said. "Admiral, it's possible she could still be holding a grudge against both you and I for the _Equinox_ incident."

"She hardly strikes me as the type who would even dare." Janeway replied. "I'll still consider it as a possibility, B'Elanna – but I'm sceptical. Something's wrong. I wonder …"

"What are you thinking?"

"I can't say just yet … but I need to pay someone a visit first."

-o0o-

**Starfleet Training Reserve:**

Chakotay tried to meditate, but since hearing the story of Tolek's parents, he found himself repeatedly drifting into daydreams of New Earth. They _had_ started to get physically closer by the time Tuvok called them. Their flirting _had_ started to get more frequent, and serious. They _had_ kissed, and those kisses were far more than just a peck on the cheek. They _hadn't_ gone all the way, not yet, but had Tuvok been a week or so later in contacting them, he was certain that even that ground would have been covered.

Far from Starfleet, and Seven, he found himself recalling how Kathryn's hardened muscles felt under her soft, smooth skin - and he caught himself wondering if her body would still feel the same now as it had back then. He thought of one of the holos of himself and her and Gretel from one of the logs, taken not long before Chuen's birth, and wondered what would have happened instead had _Voyager_ … or someone … had come back for them on that day.

His mind began to play through a string of unrealistically cosy scenarios of a family raised on the ship, of a daughter who would be an Ensign by now, and a son who would have soon been ready to finish school and enter the academy. Maybe even another child or two, if Kathryn had wanted more … in his fantasy, his hands were soon lazily exploring the generous curve of Kathryn's … _no_… of _Seven's_ ripe, fertile …

"Crewman Chakotay!" It was Tolek who'd whispered sharply, jolting him guiltily back to reality, and he remembered that some Vulcans didn't need to touch to be aware of another's thoughts … and they _were_ sitting very close. "We are under orders to remain on watch. It is therefore not advisable to allow oneself to be distracted from that duty by one's emotional fantasies."

"Understood, Cadet," Chakotay replied, keeping his voice down – and then he heard a hyena cackle in the distance, and the two were silent for a moment.

"I do not believe that this predatory mammal intends to approach us," the Vulcan finally said. "I agree," Chakotay replied. "Thankfully, it was just a hyena, and not elephants."

"It is a pity that your species, with the unusual variety of highly intelligent social life forms native to your planet, have yet to work on adequately decoding the communication patterns of most of them." Tolek said, "Because if you had, there would be less reason to fear elephants … or hyenas."

"My own people communicate with animals" Chakotay replied, "Though we use other ways. Tolek," He asked, "could you handle an elephant, if one came by here now?"

"Yes," Tolek replied. "When I was a child, my mother taught me a method of short-range telepathy, which would have enabled me to communicate my intentions to most intelligent non-humanoids. If I met an elephant here tonight, I would have no reason to fear it."

"Your mother," Chakotay asked. "I heard your father's name, but I didn't get your mother's. What was it again?"

"T'Rell," Tolek replied. "She has since entered Starfleet, and she is currently serving as captain of a Federation starship."

The name rang a bell. Chakotay suddenly remembered Gretel had asked about a Vulcan woman with the same name just after she'd materialised. The last vestiges of Chakotay's fantasy evaporated, as the realisation pulled him back hard into a reality of a Kathryn who'd drifted away from him, of Seven, Starfleet retraining, and a son who wasn't even properly alive yet.

"Her ship?" he asked.

"It is a Mark II _Promethus_-class, refitted to function as a long-range escort craft," Tolek replied. "It has a mostly Human, Vulcan and Bajoran crew. T'Rell is in the process of seeking more Betazoids for the bridge crew, but since the fall of Betazed, that has become difficult."

"I can understand how many Betazoids would want to serve closer to home," Chakotay said. "What's the name of the ship that T'Rell serves on?"

"The _USS Vindicator_," Tolek replied.

-o0o-


	13. Chapter 12: Puppet Strings

**Title: **Tabula Rasa, Chapter 12: Puppet Strings

**Author: **Ghosteye99

**Warning: **A few instances of light cussing, and a long 'dream' sequence.

**Notes: **04/03/'13:I've radically rewritten a key part of this chapter after doing a review of the fic plan, and making some necessary plot improvements (but then, that's the risk that goes with following a work in progress written in my spare time, with love, and all for free ;-)

**Disclaimer: The **Characters and setting belong to Paramount Pictures, not me. No profit or harm intended in writing this. This is a fanfiction, not Canon.

**Chapter 12: Puppet Strings**

**The Lessings Apartment:**

Noah Lessing heard the door chime, and he hoped to God that this time, it was someone he knew. After Marla's arrest – which had happened in front of Joshua – and days of doorknocks from Starfleet Security, he felt he could use a few more visits from what friends and family he and his wife still had left.

"You stay here, Josh – just in case it's trouble again." He gave the toddler a gentle tussle on the shoulder, and got up to check who was at the door. When he saw the flash of Command red through the peephole, he quietly stepped back from the door to consider his situation.

…It was probably another one from Starfleet sent to search his home. He was a civilian now, which gave him a little leeway. This visitor seemed alone, but it was likely he or she would still have security backup waiting out of sight – just as they did on the day they'd taken Marla. Noah remembered how first, a couple of officers came in to ask a few questions, and then – without warning – one of them hit her badge, and their home was suddenly filled with yellow-shirts slapping his wife into restraints and going through everything they had, whilst the best he could do was hold his son close to him to try and calm his fears.

He had to clean up the mess they left after they led her out in shackles, along with a few things in a bag … and they still hadn't yet told him what it was in that bag, or why they'd visited, or what the charges against her were. He didn't even know when, or if she was coming back. Noah was growing sick and tired of being kept in the dark, and feeling helpless. He'd decided that if it was another set of uniforms planning on hauling _him _off in front of his son, then this time, there'd be a lot more resistance - unless they applied some respect, and gave him some answers.

He went back to the door and touched the 'open' key on the control panel. The door opened, and Noah looked out, and recognised his visitor … who was, out of all Starfleet, the one person he'd hoped he'd never have to see again. It took most of his willpower not to hit the emergency close key, and slam the thing shut in the old bitch's face.

"Yes, Admiral?" he asked, keeping his tone cool, but polite.

-o0o-

**Starfleet Training Reserve, South Africa:**

Chakotay had come to the end of his watch, and he'd gone back to his tent to wake Valain Malin - his tent-mate - to take his turn on watch. After the Bajoran had left, he sealed the tent against the scorpions and small, deadly vipers that were becoming more active now that the warm season was here in that part of the world.

He changed into his night clothes, loosely folded his uniform, and put it into a mesh net-bag suspended from the upper-side of the tent. The net-bags were designed to help their clothes air out overnight, so as to (theoretically) slow their deterioration over the many consecutive days they would be worn. Wilderness drills were intended to mimic conditions that might be encountered during a shuttle crash, or a stranding – and part of the rules were that trainees were not allowed to refresh their uniforms, nor to wash themselves using any drinkable water or non-hand held technology. Chakotay couldn't help remembering the many times he lived and slept rough during his Maquis days, or the time he and most of _Voyager's_ crew were stranded by the Kazon, back in the Delta Quadrant. He also made a mental note to thoroughly shake out his uniform and underwear before putting them on again next morning.

Chakotay lay back on his sleeping bag, debating whether the slight night chill justified actually getting into it yet – and whether he should shake _that_ out before doing so, or whether a quick flashlight search would be enough. Half an hour later, he was still awake – and his mind was too full to sleep. He looked over at his back-pack, where he'd kept his medicine bundle. He realised it had been weeks since he'd last consulted the Akoonah, and that was before he'd set foot on Earth. It would be another two and a half hours before Valain would come back. Thinking of the recent new responsibilities and temptations that had come into his life, Chakotay decided that, while he was on his ancestral planet, it was high time that he came before the spirits again.

-o0o-

**The Lessings Apartment:**

Janeway thought at first that there might be no one home – she'd waited for nearly a minute, and was about to hit the chime one more time, when the door slid open, and she saw a wide-eyed dark-haired toddler in overalls, staring at her in open-mouthed fear. She looked up … into the eyes of Noah Lessing.

"Noah Lessing," she said, "It's Admiral …"

"Yes, Admiral, I know who you are!" Noah sharply replied. "Are you alone?"

"Yes," she replied. "I've come to ask you some questions, personally. I'm not here on official Starfleet business."

"But you will be later," Noah replied. It was both a statement, and an accusation.

"I cannot guarantee that I won't," She replied, "but right now, that isn't the case. There are things I've heard about Marla's case that don't add up to me, and I thought you might by chance know something that will shed some more light on the matter."

"I doubt it." He said, as he bent down to pick the boy up, and reached for the door panel. Janeway decided to lay her cards on the table.

"You were informed of the reason behind her arrest?" she asked.

"No," he said. "I've been told nothing yet."

"I can tell you," she offered, "I've looked further into her case, and I've found that there's been a number of security protocols applied to it that are unusual for an item theft, even highly classified ones. I _can_ tell you a few things I know - it's not a lot, but it'll be better than nothing. But what I tell you must not leave this room."

Noah studied her for a moment, and Janeway saw him briefly hug his son a little closer.

"Come in," he told her.

-o0o-

**Starfleet Training Reserve:**

_Chakotay opened his eyes, but this time, he was not in his ancestral forest, but out on the surrounding veldt. It was still night, but the tents were gone. In the distance, he heard the cackle of a hyena pack._

_He looked around him, but saw nothing unusual. He decided to remain standing, and wait. For several minutes, he did this … and heard only the distant calls of the night animals, and the sigh of the wind through the grass. He looked up to the stars for any sign, and tried to make out the unfamiliar constellations of Earth. Nothing unusual happened. _

_After many minutes had passed without any change, Chakotay pondered on whether he should stop the session, and retire for the night. Taking one last look at the stars, he was about to give the mental command__,__ when he heard the footfalls of an animal; it was nearby, and moving toward him. Turning to face it, he waited. And waited._

_The creature kept coming; he could hear its hooves hitting the ground in a heavy, steady beat. It seemed to be coming closer, yet, as he waited, he saw no sign of it. Why it kept approaching, but not appearing, he couldn't yet work out why – but he waited, and watched. In a vision, waiting, watching, listening and asking were very important._

_He stood still as the animal kept coming. He became aware of the sounds of other night creatures. Something slid past his bare feet – he looked down, and saw a viper, but it was merely passing by him on its way. He felt a tickle on his other foot – it was a scorpion, but all it did was pause for a second, and run off him again. He saw a large, boldly marked horned beetle crawl pass his toes._

_All of them belong here, he told himself. All of them are no threat to me, if I make no threat to them._

_Then Chakotay heard a raven cawing from a thorn tree nearby. He looked, and in the moonlight, he could see the bird struggling - something metallic in the tree appeared to have caught it by its foot … it was then he noticed that the whole tree was riddled with lumps and veins of green-glowing metal implants, like a Borg cube. He looked back to where the other animal was approaching, and after a moment's consideration, decided to go help the raven. He set off to the tree, but soon found that, though he'd run for several minutes, he did not get any closer to it. He tried to call out to the raven, but his voice came out garbled and distorted by static._

_Then, as he tried to take another step forward, a bolt of light fell from the clear night sky, lighting everything around him. The raven, startled, flapped harder, but could not free itself. From somewhere by his feet, a small half-grown hare darted away from him to seek cover__.__Then__,__ everything went black and silent, except for the beast's footsteps - which seemed to be getting closer in the darkness._

"_Is there anyone here?" he called, and his voice was static. In reply, a low, bull-like moan came from the direction of the footsteps. And then__,__ they stopped._

"_Is there anyone here?" he called again, and somewhere out of his sight, a wolf howled. Chakotay spun in the direction of the sound. "Who is there?" he called. __"__This is Lieutenant Chakotay of the Federation runabout Chix Club. Identify yourself!"_

"_Chakotay!" A woman's voice, garbled by static interference, replied. She sounded somewhat familiar. "What are you doing out here? You need to come back to the planet now!"_

"_Who are you?" he replied, "State your name!"_

… _The wolf howled again…_

"_Chakotay, it's Kathryn!" the woman replied. "What's happened? Why don't you know me?"_

_The wolf howled again. The darkness lifted, and Chakotay found himself standing in a moonlit temperate woodland. He could hear a large river running nearby … and when the monkeys started calling, he knew the place. It was on that trail he'd begun to tread to that fishing spot by the river on New Earth. A week after Voyager had left, he'd started going there a few times so that Kathryn could be alone; she'd been struggling with her attraction to him and her feelings for Mark, and he'd been trying to make that transition easier for her. Three days before Tuvok called them, she'd apologised to him for shutting him out, and they'd even started discussing the redefinition of certain parameters…_

"_Kathryn?" he called. "Are you there?"_

"_Chakotay! You're back! What happened?"_

_Kathryn came running toward him up the path … as young and long-haired as she had been when they were together then. _

"_I don't know," Chakotay replied. __"__I've just arrived here… Kathryn!" He remarked in surprise, as she took his hands._

"_What's wrong?" she asked. "Nothing's wrong," he said, looking back up; "it's just that … it's a bit of a surprise, that's all…"_

_She glanced down at the slight out-curve of her waist that Chakotay had just noticed. "Something's wrong," she said, letting go of him__,__ and carefully stepping back while reaching for her phaser; "if you were Chakotay, then you should have known about this baby, he probably knew about it even before I was sure myself. Who are you really, and what are you doing here?"_

"_I am Chakotay." He assured her, "but I am not from the same timeline. In the one that I came from, our ship returned for us before we started a family."_

"_Then prove it," she ordered. "In your timeline, how long had we been stranded before we were rescued?"_

"_Two months, approximately." he answered._

"_When we found the monkey that had gotten sick from eating unripe temporals__,__"__ she asked, "what did we do with it?"_

"_We buried it," Chakotay replied, "eventually. I recited the funeral prayer. Then we went home, you talked about Mark, and Voyager, and your family back on Earth. I remember reading you a Vulcan crime novel to help you sleep afterwards. It was 'The Crossing__,__'__ by Salvik. Chapter twenty-six, when Salyuk's daughter T'Rell first noticed a suspicious inconsistency in Voleorn__'__s logic behind his recent command decisions __…__"_

"_I remember that one__,__"__ Kathryn said, softly; "…and Voleorn then explained how his actions were necessary to purge the galaxy of the chaos woman's existence, and thus preserve time and logic__.__ Yes, I remember that one well." She lowered her phaser. __"__I remember that, in his vindictiveness, he stranded three ships in the distant past. They had to destroy one of them to make a wormhole into the Delta Quadrant before they could get home.__"_

"_You fell asleep after I finished the part where the Bajoran Prophet was assimilated by the Borg," Chakotay said._

"_That was one of the best parts," Kathryn agreed, turning her phaser off, and putting it back on its clip. "It gave me so much hope. I'll risk trusting you, even if you're not exactly _my_ Chakotay. You're close enough."_

"_Where is your Chakotay?" he asked._

"_The father of my child is up there," she said blankly - pointing up to a streak of light in the stars above them. "It's a ship, and it's breaking up!" Chakotay replied, alarmed._

…_then, he heard the bull moan again, and the heavy animal footsteps resumed__…_

"_It's him again," he said. "Who?" Kathryn asked, reaching again for her phaser._

"_You never met him in your timeline," Chakotay replied, "but in mine, you met him twice."_

"_Then we have very little time!" Kathryn said, taking his hand and hitting the commbadge that he hadn't before noticed her wearing. __"__Commander!" she ordered, "Two to beam up!"_

…_everything dissolved into light._

_The heat and brightness of the daylight made Chakotay screw up his eyes, before he blinked them open again. For a brief moment, he thought he saw his wolf guide, watching over him with bemusement. She was flanked by two grinning hyenas, which were puffing and panting like they'd just given chase … while somewhere in the distance, he thought he'd heard the raven calling; _

"_Nor … Nor … Nor!"_

"Wakey wakey mister, it's time to rise and shine!"

Chakotay opened his eyes to be blinded by a low ray of sunlight. He screwed them shut, and then opened them again to see Admirals Jellico and Nechayev grinning at him through the tent flap. It was Jellico who'd just issued the wake-up call. "Looks like we've got ourselves a volunteer for breakfast duty for the next couple of weeks," he said, laconically. Nechayev – who'd heard a few good rumours about Chakotays cooking skills – was looking quite pleased with that.

It was then that Chakotay remembered, with a jolt, that it was not "The Crossing" by Salvik he'd read to Kathryn, back on New Earth. He'd never even heard of such a book… and he was also quite sure as well that no monkey had died from eating any 'temporals' while they were there.

-o0o-

**The Lessings Apartment:**

Noah still didn't know how far he could trust her, but he couldn't deny either that she sounded sincere enough. He'd looked her in the eye several times to gauge her true intentions, and wondered why – so many years after _that_ incident, he still found it hard to bring himself to do so with her. Twelve years ago, he'd looked into those same pale eyes – and he'd seen nothing but cold murder in them … but now, here she was, sincerely going out of her way to help them both. A man like him should've gotten over that by now.

Both he and Marla had as little to do with Starfleet or the other, non-_Equinox_ crew as possible after they'd been released from their penal colonies, and they'd both come to think of Janeway as a stone-souled, brass-hearted bitch who could never quite be trustworthy. Yet here she was, willingly facing him, alone, in his own home, and plainly moved by his family's plight. That rocked him – he didn't know whether to start liking her, or to just hate her less.

"So you believe that Marla may have been put under some form of mind control." He stated, keeping his tone blunt to help maintain a grip on himself; "…and that part of this mind-control may involve forced time-travel."

"I believe so," Janeway replied. "The Chroniton particles in her DNA traces, and the symptoms you described strongly suggest it. The sudden change in behaviour … uncommunicativeness … secretiveness, and a desire to _always_ be alone, when that isn't normal for her. Especially when you'd said she'd come back unusually from work, and not acting herself, when she was ok the morning she left. They all suggest both mind-control, and the beginnings of temporal psychosis."

"For which there is yet no effective treatment," Noah muttered. "I may not be a science officer anymore, but I've still been keeping up with the news on developments there."

"The Doctor has been making a lot of advances of his own." Janeway said. "I remember reading a recent journal article he wrote on a series of temporal neuropathology cell experiments that showed promising results with transporter technology…"

Noah gave her a hard look. "I hope he makes good headway," he said. "I do not want my son to grow up with a mindless shell, instead of his mother."

"If you want to help Marla, you will need to go to Starfleet, and request an interview," Janeway replied, "and do it as soon as you can, so that she can be kept safe from being further manipulated, and so she can be tested before anything that's been put on her wears off. I'm surprised that they didn't call you in to do one when they arrested her."

"No, they hadn't." he affirmed. "And I thought it was strange at the time that they didn't."

…_but of course, Admiral, you __probably know exactly why they didn't ask_, he thought to himself, bitterly. _It's got everything to do with the two of us being part of the Equinox Five. The Homecomers that the Federation wants to forget__…_

"But I do at least remember the names of the two officers who were in charge when I was first visited." He added, "Maybe you can arrange to speak to them."

"Who are they?" She asked.

"A Lieutenant by the name of Sands, and an Ensign by the name of Stone." He answered. "They work for Starfleet Security. Both are in red."

"Thank you," Janeway replied, getting up. Noah noted that she had gone back to the clipped, businesslike command-mode she'd been in when she'd first arrived. "I have to go now, and I'll remind you again; _don't_ forget to contact Starfleet as soon as you can to do that interview. I'll take a look into the conduct of those officers myself, as soon as I can. Will you two be alright while she's gone?"

"We'll be fine," Noah said – referring to himself and Joshua.

"If you need any help …"

"_We'll_ be _fine_," he insisted.

-o0o-

**Admiral Janeway's Apartment – That Evening:**

Janeway came home late from work, and put the stack of PADDs she carried down on her sitting room table before shucking off her jacket and going over to replicate a coffee.

"_Request denied_." The machine replied. "_You have reached the maximum daily limit of your Caffeine allowance_."

_Damn that Doctor!_ She thought, remembering that he'd sent his prescribed replicator restrictions to her home as well as the Starfleet Command building … but then, she had a cunning idea.

"Cocoa," she asked. "Hot, unsweetened. With milk."

"_Request denied_." The machine repeated. "_You have reached the maximum daily limit of your Caffeine allowance_."

"Damn!" she hissed, and then she took a quick look out her window. It was already dark, but the nearest public transporter booth was only a couple of houses down her street. She could just duck over to any one of dozens of replimats all over the city, and if she visited enough of them, she could come back with a flask-full … the main trick was to work out a way _not_ to get spotted. Janeway already had the unpleasant experience of earning herself an unflatteringly holographed feature in a popular tabloid broadcaster's 'caught out' column, after she'd been 'caught out' replimat-ratting during a previous caffeine rationing … and she didn't want to repeat it.

She quickly changed into a reasonably warm and modest dress, put on a jacket, shoved a reasonably-good-at-face-hiding hat on her head, grabbed a flask, stuck it in a suitably large handbag, then grabbed a stack of malfunctioning PADDs (that she had been going to recycle) to hide it under. All set, she keyed open her front door ... and saw Torres, Miral and her husband Tom making their way up the footpath to meet her. Gretel was with them, and though they greeted her cheerfully, they all looked a bit too serious for her peace of mind.

-o0o-


	14. Chapter 13: Obstructions

**Title: **Tabula Rasa, Chapter 13: Obstructions

**Author: **Ghosteye99

**Notes: **Managed to get Chapter 13 up in time for Halloween :-)

**Warning: **One mild cuss-word is used.

**Disclaimer: **Characters and setting belong to Paramount Pictures, not me. J'mpok and some history settings mentioned in this chapter belong to Star Trek Online (Owned by Perfect World, and previously Atari). No profit or harm intended. No profit or harm intended. This is a fanfiction, not Canon.

**Chapter 13: Obstructions**

**Admiral Janeway's Apartment:**

It turned out that Seven had been unexpectedly accepted as a last-minute applicant for an important course in her crewman's training – one that she'd not expected to start for another three months. One of the other students pulled out, and she'd been shifted forward in the queue. This meant that she had to leave immediately for deep space training, and with Chakotay still away in the wilderness for another two weeks, Gretel would need another familiar person to stay with.

She was exhausted, still had about two hours worth of leftover work that had to be finished tonight, and she was also strung-out from too many hours without caffeine. But Janeway set about setting up her spare bedroom for Gretel without complaint, and if she'd resented the sudden inconvenience, none of her visitors would have known.

The truth was, in spite of any irritation she might have secretly had over the disruptions, she was deeply glad that she would be having more of the girl's company - and also grateful that Paris and Torres had already taken care of the alterations to her after-school and babysitting arrangements. A large jar of freshly replicated instant coffee from Paris's satchel was like the cherry on the icing on the cake.

"Just replicate some hot water," he said. "Mix a flat teaspoon of this in, and voila! Just remember not to tell the Doctor."

"_Thank_ you! And I'll remember to take your advice," she said, while scrambling urgently through her kitchen drawer for a spoon. Any spoon. "You don't want any?"

Paris and Torres both held up their hands in unison. "No thanks," Torres replied, sounding a little too mysterious. "We've already fuelled up at the Officer's bar."

Janeway, who'd already had her brew replicated and mixed, looked warily at the couple; some of her old Captain's instincts starting to kick in. She took a cautious taste of her drink, stared at it with the expression of one who was not impressed, and then - with a look of resignation - she took another, longer sip … and sighed with relief, as her body welcomed the drug.

"Any port in a storm, Admiral?" Paris quipped. Torres knowingly raised an eyebrow.

"You could say that," Janeway said. "But this'll be enough to keep me sane while this caffeine rationing lasts. And thank you."

The three were silent for a moment, as the sounds of Miral and Gretel's conversation floated in from the sitting room. They _were_ supposed to be playing Kadis Kot, but it sounded like Miral was instead reading out one of her "K'Tax, the warrior Targ," books from one of her children's novel collection. The complete K'Tax saga had been an unexpected homecoming gift from Commander Worf - who'd been touched by _Voyager's_ story the more he'd heard of it, and wanted to contribute something of good influence to guide Miral's Klingon heritage.

"She really likes that part," Torres said, as Miral earnestly narrated some chapters where K'Tax was near-mortally wounded fending off a monopod, and the targling she'd protected then kept vigil over his mother until she eventually recovered. "She's read them all, several times over."

"But she hasn't yet read Volume _six_," Paris replied, in a low voice.

"And she won't either," Torres stated, in an equally quiet voice, "… until she's a more suitable age. Worf and I were fully agreed on _that_."

"Why?" Janeway whispered, now curious.

"Chapter six is when K'Tax selects for herself a worthy mate," Torres said.

"It's just that there are some details that are not-quite-yet suitable for a ten-year old," Paris added. "They were written over a century ago, when standards on Q'onoS were a little different to now."

"Which reminds me," Torres replied. "Kathryn …" … something about B'Elanna's use of Janeway's personal name warned her that the news she was about to give was not going to be good … "… speaking of Q'onoS, have you had a chance to see the breaking news broadcast?"

"When?" Janeway asked.

"It was about forty minutes ago," Torres replied. She reached for the workstation on the kitchen table. "It should still be replaying on the main bulletins. Can I turn this on?"

-o0o-

**The Café' Outside the Officer's Bar, Starfleet Command:**

"Hey, Stone! Can you fetch us all another synthale?"

"Sure thing, Lieutenant _Commander_ Aaron Leon Sands!" the dark-haired Ensign replied - giving a saucy little glance to a newly-promoted officer among the others around the table, and winking at him before she headed over to the bartender.

"One more round of drinks shall be required before closing time, I presume," the Vulcan behind the counter said, as she reached the bar.

"You guessed correctly, T'Keth," Stone said. "Four synthales on a tray, please."

"I shall presently supply you with the required drinks, but you will have to excuse me for a moment." T'Keth put aside the drink glasses she'd been arranging, and quickly darted out to a table where a group of Academy cadets were arguing. Though the discussion was still relatively quiet by the time she arrived, she'd observed - from her long experience dealing with human emotions - that things were beginning to dangerously heat up, especially between an fourth and a first year cadet. T'Keth noted the signs that a physical altercation was becoming unacceptably likely, to the point where it had now become her duty to prevent such a situation from occurring.

She began by removing the main trigger for the emotional disturbance - she pulled a remote control out of her uniform pocket, and switching off the newscast.

"Hey!" one of the party yelled. "We were watching that!"

"I am aware of that," T'Keth calmly replied. "And I am also aware that all of you have been doing so repeatedly for the past hour. By now, you will have been highly familiarised with the newscast's contents. As well, I have observed that many of you have allowed the content of such media to trigger such potentially violent emotional behaviour. As the officer in charge of this facility, I am required to do whatever is necessary to prevent such behaviour from escalating. And in the future, you shall call me Commander."

"Yes, Commander." All but one at the table mumbled. Commander T'Keth turned to the one who'd been silent – the fourth-year, who was still red-faced with anger. "And you, Cadet Hancock?"

Hancock remained silent.

"May I remind you that your continuing silence in the face of my orders constitutes an act of insubordination … and that enough accumulated instances of such a breach of conduct will be sufficient grounds for your expulsion?"

Hancock looked up at the Vulcan. "No offence intended, _Commander_, but you've seen what was on those broadcasts today. Surely you'd be worried too about the Academy letting in more Klingon students, when things like _that_ are going on at Q'onoS?"

"You forget that, as a Vulcan, I am not capable of being either 'worried' nor 'offended'," she replied. "And as for the recent decision by Starfleet Command to sponsor more Klingon students in the Academy, I myself am in support of the move - for regardless of what happens with their political situation in the future, Klingons are currently our allies, and as such we are all required to treat them with the same degree of inclusivity that has been given to my own people. Though I agree that it _is _prudent to be mindful of the influence that an emerging political extremist may have, Federation and therefore Starfleet principals require that we refrain from judging an entire species on the basis of a few factions. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, Commander." Hancock replied meekly, and a murmur went around the table as the others did likewise.

"Then that will be all," she said, "I will also remind you that it is getting late, and that closing time for all first to third-year Cadets will be in twenty minutes time. When I come back, I expect to find that those of you who are so to be gone." T'Keth calmly returned to the bar.

Hancock watched her go until her back was turned to him, and she was busy pulling a tray of synthales for another table.

"Look, whatever she says," He whispered angrily to the group, "There are a lot of people here who have still lost their ancestors in the Klingon wars. They are the reason my own grandmother became an orphan the day after she was born, and the reason she died, having to fight them when my father was still a boy. But I was willing to let these things be bygones … until all this J'mpok bullshite started!"

"You just watch your language!"

"Hey, Naomi … take it easy," another fourth-year put his arm around her shoulder, and gave it a squeeze. "We'll talk about this later, ok?"

"Ok … for now," Naomi, replied.

"He's still very young, Hancock," the fourth-year added, addressing Hancock. The Borg implant above his eye reflected the soft café lights as he spoke. "It's likely that he'll either eventually get some sense knocked into him, or he'll meet with a sticky end. It's a fact that most Klingons _want_ the Khitomer Accord to stay. I can tell you now; he's not going to get very far – so don't worry."

-o0o-

**Admiral Janeway's Apartment:**

"You _love_ engineering!" Janeway said as Torres stared into her cold Instant coffee. "And Starfleet always has need for engineers of your calibre. Are you sure you want to go this way?"

"I'm positive." Torres replied, sounding as determined as she was dejected. "Vorik will be well enough to come back soon, and between him and Molina, Starfleet Engineering will be in good hands. But the more I think of this, the clearer it is to me that this is the next step for me in my path. It's going to be a big leap into the unknown, but I can soon see a future where this planet will need a good ambassador to the empire, especially one with the understanding I have of what it is to be both Human _and_ Klingon."

"Admiral Lasseter is doing a fair enough job of that at the moment," Janeway noted, "though I agree that he doesn't have the same perspectives that you have, and that he _is_ also nearly one hundred, and probably could do with another little kick upstairs … maybe this time to help shift Knox out of her office."

"Hopefully out via her window," Torres replied with a grimace. Beyond her small circle of cronies, Admiral Knox was _not_ the most popular occupant of the Starfleet Command building. 'Like Jellico, but with half the brain and minus a heart,' it had been said of her. Even though Janeway fully agreed, mindful that she was still in uniform, she kept her tone professional.

"I can arrange some contacts for you with the right people," she said. "Counsellor Troi will be finishing her long service leave soon, she may have time before she returns to the _Enterprise_ to see you, and arrange an interview with Ambassador Lwaxana so that you can get a better feel of what will be involved. You might want to also look at ways you can get your rank up a little faster – you're already not far off being a Captain, and there's several new civilisations joining the Federation every year. Getting a few years of negotiation experience will serve you well."

"Miral …" Torres replied. She let out a heavy sigh. "I've got a pretty good idea already of what becoming an ambassador is going to take," she said. "Though I'd like to go back into space again, I can tell you now that I'm also _not_ looking forward to not being able to come home to her every day - even though I know that Tom will look after her really well. But it's not looking good at Q'onoS. J'mpok is young," she continued, "but he's already getting a lot of support. In about ten or twenty year's time - if he's still alive by then, he's going to be a seasoned politician. If he's not, then you can be guaranteed he'll have an even bigger following as a martyr. Klingons have their own perspective on the federation and their Empire; Humans like yourself have your own. I know what its like to be between both those worlds, and so does Miral. She's already had flak from both species for having something of the other. If J'mpok does ever manage to get into power…"

"So long as I can still wear this uniform," Janeway promised, "I won't let him destroy the Khitomer Accord. If the Klingon Empire and the Federation return to war, it will …"

"Admiral!" – It was Paris; he'd stuck his head through the kitchen door from the balcony where he'd been supervising a holo-game with the children. "Sorry to interrupt the girl's talk, but you've got a message from Admiral Jellico. He's waiting online for you."

"I'm on my way," she replied, "and by the way, if you weren't a civilian, Mister Paris, I'd have been sorely tempted to pocket a bit of your brass for that '_girl's talk_' comment." She was not completely kidding, and Paris knew it.

"I suppose you'll just write me a scathing holonovel review instead," he joked.

"Hmm, I'll remember that, in case I need to," she quipped, ducking regally past him on the way to her office.

-o0o-

**Starfleet Command:**

"Aaron …"

"Call me _Leon_, Mara." Lieutenant Commander Sands replied. "I've lately decided that I like my middle name a _lot_ better."

"Well, I like your old one best, _Aaron_."

"Whatever," Sands said, brusquely. "When I get on the _Vindicator_, I'll be referred to by the name of my choosing. I've already put the request in when I accepted the post, and I'll expect to get a yes for it. The Captain's a Vulcan anyway, so she'll go along with anything I want as long as I can get her to somehow think it's _logical_. Her sort always do."

"Now I really know something's gotten into you." Ensign Mara Antonis replied. "Aaron, I think you need to see a counsellor now. There's been something very wrong about you for weeks, and you've not been yourself. You were such a decent man before - but now, all of a sudden, you've been … rude, loud, arrogant, bigoted, unreasonable, abrupt … and you've doing a lot of really odd and capricious things. Like suddenly insisting that everyone use your other name, when you've never had any problem with using Aaron before."

"This is _my_ prerogative, Ensign!" Sands snarled at Mara, who was taken aback to hear her fiancée reduce her to a rank in an off-duty conversation. "So if you'll excuse me, I've got some things to do instead of wasting my time here …"

"Aaron … I mean, _Leon_," she called after him, as he stalked away from her, back across the floodlit lawns to the building. "Please … listen to me, there's something wrong with you!"

-o0o-

**Admiral Janeway's Apartment:**

"Yes, Admiral?" Janeway said as Jellico's face appeared on the screen. He was in uniform, and wearing a pith helmet. Behind him was vast, dry grassland dotted with trees. His face was reddened from the sun, but the skies behind him looked almost black, as if a rainstorm was approaching.

"Admiral Janeway," he replied, "There's been a decision made on the Pathfinder project. Though we acknowledge the very valid points that you've made, we believe that they aren't sufficient to justify the resources and manpower it is taking up. We've decided to shut it down."

She pursed her lips until they were barely a line. "Do you intend to install anything in its place?" she asked.

"At this point, no." he replied. "We don't believe that there is sufficient need for that."

"Oh, but there _will_ be …" Janeway replied, containing her rising anger. "When that project is terminated, you will be making the Federation both blind and deaf to any new threats coming from the Delta Quadrant - and believe me, Admiral, if you've read my reports … you'd know that there are some that could already be on their way here. There are powers out in that part of the galaxy that could make it to the Federation's doorstep much sooner than you think. We _need_ that project to keep running, and we need to expand it!"

"Admiral, your objection is noted." Jellico said. "But the decision has been made, and you are required to abide by it. That will be all. Jellico Ou…"

"Wait! … Admiral," she cut in, having just had a sudden idea. "May I request permission to find an alternate host for the project? A Civillian starbase, or an allied Non-Federation planet or outpost?"

Admiral Jellico thought for a second. "You have Seventy-two hours to find an alternative host, and to arrange staffing and transport of the equipment," he said. "Because the dismantling is scheduled to start at that time. Jellico Out."

The screen on her workstation flashed back to the Starfleet logo. Janeway switched it off. She sat for a moment, her mind racing through a list of planets, starbases, civilian companies and organizations who might do. When she'd thought up enough of them, she got up to break the news to the others. She was already putting a plan together in her mind.

-o0o-

An hour later, the Parises had gone home, and Gretel had washed and changed into her nightclothes. Janeway sat with her for a chat, but after a short conversation, the girl was soon asleep. So far, she seemed to be a surprisingly 'easy' and self-sufficient child to look after, for her age - at least in practical matters. Of emotional matters, Janeway wasn't sure yet. She quietly left her room, and after she'd gotten herself ready to retire for the night, she added the girl's school and other reminders to the alerts on her bedside PADD. She then put on her nightdress, and turned on her office workstation.

Quickly, she wrote the message she'd been mentally composing since speaking to Jellico, and sent copies of it off to the list of contacts she'd chosen. Looking at the time, she decided it would also be prudent to give her mother a call – to let her know that she would be minding her grandchild, and to get some advice. Both Gretchen Janeway and her sister Phoebe had been closely following the children's fortunes, but because their own obligations had called them to remote parts of the quadrant, neither had been able to get back to Earth - yet. There was also still that backlog from work to get through, but that could now wait for tomorrow morning, when she was back at the office. It just meant that tomorrow, lunch would be another replicated sandwich instead of a meal at the Officer's bar. Sandwiches and coffee seemed to have become her staple diet lately.

… There was also a new ornament on her bedside dresser, a gift, of sorts from Torres. She picked it up, and studied it. It was a pendant, of pure Duranium strung on a cord of sealed carbon fibre. It had been cast into the shape of a burr-oak acorn, and pigmented to appear exactly like the real thing. Torres had also made another copy for insurance, in the form of a seashell. That, she would give to Gretel when she told her about it next morning. Janeway was not one for wearing jewellery on-duty - but she was sure she could get the acorn past Starfleet's dress codes, if she wore it under her clothes, and claimed it to be an item of sentimental value.

She wouldn't be lying if she did, for secretly encased in that Duranium acorn were two datachips of the new, ultra-small kind that had only come out less than a year ago. One contained a copy of the logs retrieved from Voyager's anomaly. The other held Chuen's buffer pattern.

The little gifts came along with bad news – which Torres had broken to her before their conversation had turned to the political situation on Q'onoS. Just as Starfleet had ordered the closure of the pathfinder project that Janeway had been fighting to keep alive, Torres herself had been ordered to cease any efforts to rematerialise Chuen. The reason they'd given was that the process was proving to be too risky … so it was decided that the ethically safest way was not to try. Torres, refusing to completely give up, made the pendants in the hope that, sometime in the future, things might change.

Janeway tenderly held the little acorn, and then put it on, and got into bed. She lay down gripping it securely against her chest, and slept more soundly than she had in months.

-o0o-


	15. Chapter 14: Dreams and Plans

**Title: **Tabula Rasa, Chapter 14: Dreams and Plans

**Author: **Ghosteye99

**Warning (if you can call it that): **Description of partial frontal adult female nudity (iow, Chakotay gets an eyeful. And Janeway doesn't exactly miss out on a little taste of fun, either).

**Notes: **Some (but not all) of the symbolism in the dream sequence was taken from The Dream Book of Astrampsychos. The (non-Akoonah) dreams in this fic have all come from a source, which will be revealed later on. And yeah, the cbts is continuing to plod sedately along.

**Disclaimer: **Characters and setting belong to Paramount Pictures and CBS, not me. No profit or harm intended. This is a fanfiction, not Canon.

**Chapter 14: Dreams and Plans**

**Admiral Janeway's Apartment/Starfleet Training Reserve, South Africa:**

Janeway realised that she'd forgotten to turn one of her workstations off, when she was woken by a message alert chiming at two-thirty in the morning. She practically jumped out of her bed, and half-ran, half-stumbled over into the sitting room-come-office adjoining her bedroom. When she got there, she fumbled in the dim screen-light until she found the volume control tab, and turned the sound down low enough so as not to wake Gretel.

Chakotay's face appeared on the screen when she activated the message, and in spite of her grogginess, she noticed he'd grown a fair covering of stubble - enough to make him look more than a little interesting in the eyes of one old Admiral who'd just been dragged out of a pleasant dream.

"Yes, Chakotay?" she replied, sleepily.

"I was intending to send you a text message," Chakotay replied after a short pause, "… but I noticed you were still online. I hope I didn't wake you?"

"I forgot to turn my workstation off. I wasn't quite asleep anyway," she lied. "Is everything okay?"

"I was about to ask the same thing of you," he replied. "Have you told Gretel about the decision with Chuen?"

"She'll know in the morning." Janeway replied, and reached for the pendant Torres had given her … and for a moment, she swore she saw Chakotay's eyes suddenly widen and blink, as they followed her hand. She then realised that she'd forgotten to button up the top of her nightdress, and she was inadvertently treating him to a very clear view of her cleavage, and more.

"How secure is this channel?" she asked - whilst trying to button up quickly with sleep-clumsy fingers.

"I've overheard the Admirals in charge here use it for some quite personal conversations," Chakotay replied, returning his gaze back up to her face. "So I'd say it'd be about as secure as Starfleet can get." When Janeway raised an eyebrow, he quickly added – in a blandly mischievous tone; "Spending a lot of time on cook's duties does allow for plenty of eavesdropping opportunities. I'm sure I've already collected a fair amount of minor blackmail material on both Nechayev and Jellico … though I'm still working out the best way I can use it."

"Uh huh," she murmured, too tired at the moment to appreciate the joke. "I'll trust you on that. Chakotay, I'm going to show you something that isn't exactly meant to be public knowledge. Can you check if anyone's listening at your end?"

"No … all's clear." He replied, after a quick but thorough look around.

"He's in here," Janeway explained, showing Chakotay the little Duranium acorn. "Torres also made a copy for Gretel, she was going to do another for you and Seven, but she ran out of time before she had to carry out the order to decompile the original patterns."

"They were_ decompiled?"_ Chakotay's eyes snapped up again from where they'd drifted back down to her cleavage. "_Both_ of them? _Chuen's_ as well? Why?" he demanded.

"The official reason they'd given her for Gretel's was that she was already here, so there was no point in keeping her old pattern…"

"I can understand _that_," Chakotay angrily cut in. "I'm aware of the current protocols with digital and genetic cloning. But there was _no_ need to do that yet with Chuen!"

"She was told that his pattern was more corrupted than they'd first thought, so his options were re-analysed. Torres's superiors decided that the risks involved in another attempt were too great for that to be ethical. Personally, Chakotay, I've got some reasons of my own to suspect that there's a bit more to it than that … but I'll need to gather enough evidence first."

"_Great Spirits!"_

"I'm sorry, Chakotay ... I didn't know that decision was going to be made until after it was carried out." She said, truthfully. "Torres only _just_ got permission on compassionate grounds to make copies of Chuen's pattern as a memento, and even then only after she had to include both an anti-duplication and an anti-materialisation lock on all levels of it."

"Hopefully she slipped in some way of undoing those."

Janeway closed her eyes, and shook her head. "Starfleet Engineering is full of people of Torres's calibre, but with far more experience." she said, sadly. "And at least two of their best ran a very thorough check on her work afterwards. She decided not to risk losing what little concessions they'd allowed by trying any tricks on them."

Chakotay was silent for a moment. "Gretel often talked about her brother after she was materialised." He said, eventually. "Seven noticed that as well. We all were looking forward to his arrival."

"All of us," Janeway agreed. "She still mentions him a lot since she's been staying with me. Chakotay," she added, "I'm not finished with this yet. I'm going to try to go about this as discreetly as I can … but it's best that both you and Seven know that I'm going to find some other way of getting our son through. One way or another."

"How?" Chakotay asked, bluntly. "Do you have any ideas?" Though the tone of his voice was flat, she could see the grief and anger growing in his eyes.

"I do," She explained. "I'm going to arrange a discreet visit with the Doctor. He's been doing a lot of research into trans-digital genetics, and I've been reading some of his papers on it. It may be possible that Chuen's DNA pattern can be programmed into replicated human cells. Seven could carry him if she wishes … since she's younger than me, and has said that she's interested in having a child. Despite what her report said, it shouldn't be too hard for the Doctor or Torres to reprogram enough of her nanoprobes so that they'd protect a foetus, instead of destroying it…"

"Keep me informed on how things are going with that, Kathryn." Chakotay said. "And tell Seven, as she'll need to know about those plans. You'll probably get the chance to see her face-to-face sooner than I will."

"I certainly will do that," she replied, "I'm going to explore every viable option, but I won't try anything until I am sure it is likely to work. It looks like Chuen now has only two chances left, and we don't want to waste either of them."

"I know that you won't," he said. "What are you going to tell Gretel about this?"

"I'm only going to keep her optimism up," Janeway said. "But I'm not going to entrust her with any details, in case she lets something slip in front of the wrong people. I think it'll also be a good idea to come up with an alibi when … or _if_ this can be done. That he was donated by someone who didn't want children and had been careless with her shots … or something like that. Maybe even arrange a temporary genetic smokescreen. Just in case there's something … or some_one_ watching over all this with hostile intentions."

"If there is, then it's a wonder that Gretel hasn't been attacked yet." Chakotay noted.

"Who's to say that she hasn't been already?" Janeway said. "I've read the latest report on her rematerialisation. The data indicates it should have gone a lot smoother than it did – her Chroniton count shouldn't have interfered that much with the coalescence phase of her signal. Torres and Molina are still looking into that, and they're coming up with some very unsettling findings. It looks like we've already brought one child into a perilous situation … and yet, I'm determined to do it again." Janeway sighed; "…We're practically doing what our other selves did, back in the Delta Quadrant…"

"But this time, they're not alone." Chakotay insisted. "This time, they are surrounded by friends as well as enemies. Far _more_, in fact, than those who would intend to do them harm."

"Yes, you're quite right about that," She replied. "And I believe that, between us all, we can look after those children … and protect them."

"I believe so as well." He replied. "Anyway …" he added, glancing to a corner of the screen, where the workstation chronometer would be … I think my message time's nearly up."

"Then I won't hold you further," Janeway replied, "If I make any progress, I'll send you a coded text message. Janeway Out."

-o0o-

Chakotay turned off the workstation, and sat back for a minute to take the news in. Typically of the Admiral's … of _Kathryn's_ professionalism, she'd kept the conversation strictly to personal matters between them – if she knew of anything else beyond that brewing out in the universe; she'd made no mention of it.

Closing his eyes, he vigorously rubbed his hands over his face to fend off his own fatigue; he had more cooking duties to start on in ten minutes … Chakotay focused on the feel of his stubble scratching against his palms - anything to shift his mind back to the here and now, instead of the heavy ache in his chest. His son was still stuck in limbo … possibly forever, if Kathryn's plans didn't work out.

Her words came back to him; "…_I believe that, between us all, we can look after those children… and protect them._"

And he remembered, with a sting of shame, his and Seven's attitude to all this when they were back on Dorvan and en route to Earth. He realised how much they'd both been changed by the events of those past few weeks. Kathryn had only said what he knew now was right - the children were a joint responsibility shared between all of them, not the exclusive possessions of any one. Sekaya would have told him the same thing, as well as his father.

And _Kathryn_ … by Great Earth Mother and Sky Father! Knowing how much their own feelings of parental attachment had taken him and Seven by surprise, he could also see that for her, the children had further awakened something in her that went right down to the very core of her being.

Chakotay realised that they couldn't just whisk Gretel back to Dorvan and leave her to make do with letters and subspace chats - even though she would most likely let them do so without protest, _if _she thoughtit was for the child's best interests. No … if he let that happen, it would slowly destroy her. They were all in this together now.

…and with a twinge of guilt, he also realised he'd been ogling Kathryn's breasts at the very moment she'd broken the bad news about Chuen to him (and even now, in the back of his mind, he still couldn't stop himself from thinking about how _nice_ her figure was …). _That_ was something he'd have to rein in hard, if the three of them were to maintain the solid harmony that the children would need.

But it would be hard; the more he spoke wtih her, and the more that he saw of her, the more those old feelings were starting to come back … and Chakotay was finding it a battle to stop them from growing stronger...

"Time's up!"

It was Nechayev who'd called the time-out.

"Is everything all right, trainee?" she asked.

Chakotay glared up from behind his hands. "Did you give the order, Admiral?" he bluntly asked.

"What order?" she answered, sharply.

"To decompile my son." He said.

A look flicked across Nechayev's face like a shadow. "That matter's not under my jurisdiction," she replied. "Though I admit that I have been indulging a _scientific_ curiosity about it, I will remind you that Admiral _Knox_ is the one who has been given charge of any matters directly related to the Anomaly. So I suggest that if you have a complaint to make about any decision to do with that, then at the next opportunity you will take it to her, instead of me."

"I will, Admiral." Chakotay flatly replied. "And Admiral, the comstation's free now."

"And there's another thing, Chakotay," Nechayev briskly added, "Though I am required by protocol to support Knox's decision, I will let you know that I do _not_ privately endorse it. I personally think that it is both unnecessary and wasteful … and I think you should also know that I have been made aware of Commander Torres's copies. In this case, I am in support of her decision to have made them … but I would also advise both you and Seven - as well as Admiral Janeway - to maintain extreme discretion about their existence."

-o0o-

**Admiral Janeway's Apartment:**

Janeway crept far enough into Gretel's room to check on the girl – she was soundly asleep, so she quietly made her way back to her own bed. There, she let her mind go over her conversation with Chakotay while waiting for her own sleep to come. She'd intended to tell him those plans face-to-face instead of via subspace, but it had just come out when she'd thought he was looking at her pendant (and not her cleavage as well).

Chakotay had been uncharacteristically naïve about their privacy - the commlink, though secure, would almost certainly be recorded. She didn't have any suspicions about Jellico or Nechayev, though she was now feeling a little embarrassed about it. She just hoped that those two would be the only reviewers of that exchange … and she hoped her own tiredness-induced lapse of judgement didn't put anyone in further danger.

At least she didn't mention what she was doing with the Pathfinder project … or her visit to the Lessings. _Or_ Braxton's visit to Nechayev's office. That was one thing to be thankful for. There was so much stuff she had to keep contained in her mind … just to help keep so many other people safe …

…she quickly returned to sleep as, many light years away, a Bajoran hand touched open one of the Pathfinder request messages she'd posted, and scrolled down through its details.

-o0o-

**Charon, the Kuiper Belt, 21****st**** Century:**

Some plans were going more smoothly than others, but so far, Braxton was getting what he needed from those over whom he'd established a mental hold. He'd taken his ship into the edge of the Sol system, and parked it in a stable ice cave on Pluto's main satellite. The long-range detection instruments of that century would not be able to get past its jammers. There, he could use his physical proximity to Earth to help him more finely tune his control.

The first woman, Lessing, had faithfully time-jumped back to him with the parts he needed to extend his reach. After she'd handed them over, he sent her straight back to her apartment – even though time-jumping whilst still under mind-control was extremely risky to her neurological health. She would likely still be in a state of extreme confusion - but Braxton had decided that under the circumstances, it was better to leave her that way, rather than give her the two hyposprays she needed if she was to recover properly.

He knew what such neglect would do to her mind in the long-term, but he couldn't afford to waste resources and risk exposure getting someone else to help her. A pity … he'd thought she was quite attractive. But though he didn't need her for any more tasks, if she was left in her confused state, she might still provide some useful distraction to ant Starfleet investigators.

Braxton also managed to influence both Commander Sands and Lieutenant Stone to botch their investigations into Lessing's theft, enough to further cover his tracks. Stone had also done what he needed her to do, but he would let her link fade by itself rather than sever it now, in case there was need to renew it later. Sands, though, still had a_ lot_ more work to do for him.

It was also nearly time to bring in Hunter and Torin - but first, before he took them, there was a call he had to make.

-o0o-

**Starfleet Command:**

Janeway beamed in to work after thrashing her way through a blur of unfamiliar new chores. Ducking straight into the nearest of Starfleet Command's toilets, she checked that her hair and makeup was right, and that her uniform and insignia were all on correctly. She saw that one of her Admiral's bars was slightly crooked, but she had it straightened in a second.

At least she'd safely got Gretel off to school on time, _and_ properly dressed, fed, cleaned up and equipped with (hopefully) all of her school paraphernalia – and that was just their first morning together. Years of Starfleet discipline and a frantic subspace call to her mother last night seemed to be paying off in her first shaky foray into parenting, and she was feeling rather pleased with herself.

She'd even slept more soundly than she had in months, in spite of Chakotay's interruption and everything else that had been going on. … in fact, after catching a decent rest and successfully getting Gretel away in one piece, she felt as if she could take on any Klingon extremists, time-travelling madmen or nitwit colleagues that the universe could throw at her today ... all she needed now was another coffee, and she could probably even have the whole Quadrant eating from her hand.

There'd been _that_ dream as well. She only remembered scattered scenes from it – some pleasant, some not, but there was an intoxicating feeling of otherworldly vastness to it that still lingered. If she got enough time today, she even contemplated logging it on a spare PADD for posterity.

Reaching her office, Janeway switched on her workstation and checked her main message bank. She found she'd gotten no more replies to her message, altogether making an underwhelming total of two responses. One was a flat 'no' from one of the Federation planetary colonies; the next was an even shorter one from the Bolian starbase, bluntly asking for more information.

She scowled at the screen. _So much for that,_ she thought – but she wasn't about to give up on it yet. She set to attacking the stack of work left over from last night … whilst thinking of what else she could do to save the project.

-o0o-

Janeway was getting ahead in her mornings duties, so she decided to steal a little time to log the dream before it faded too much. She took the spare PADD from her pocket, and began to quickly jot down what she still remembered of it:

…_She was in her offi__ce, gathering together some PADDs, tricorders, hyposprays, clothes, blankets and food to pack into a satchel for a journey, whilst contentedly humming a tune to herself. Instead of a chair behind her desk, she had a rock to sit on. She and the crew had brought it all the way back from the Delta Quadrant. Water was steadily dripping from the ceiling. Her reverie was interrupted by her door chime. _

"_Chakotay?" she'd asked, dreamily, but it was the Doctor. He had a birthday present in his arms, wrapped up in blue paper printed with cutely drawn bats, seashells and serpents. "I've also prescribed this for you," he said, handing it to her. "It's a delivery, from a long-time admirer. Open it when you need to."_

"_Thank you…" she'd sighed, gratefully … and got up to embrace him … but a sudden giddy spell caused her to reel forwards, and she had to put her hands on the desktop to stop herself from falling face-down onto it. She saw there were water drips all over the table, along with some strands of her hair. Somehow, though, a pear her mother had given her was still safely in her pocket – and knowing that gave her relief… _

…_She looked up, and instead of the Doctor, saw Q's face grinning down at her from the ceiling. "You should open it now, Kathy," he drawled, and cocked his head sharply in the direction of her present. Then, he disappeared. In the grounds outside, she could hear dogs barking in the distance._

…_Unwrapping the Doctor's gift, the paper had turned into a ream of shimmery cream satin embroidered with white roses. She found a box full of even more hyposprays – they smelt of sugar - and she caught a glimpse of something blue buried under them. When she fished it out, she saw that it was a gift ribbon tied around a phaser… _

… _leaving the turbolift, she stepped onto the transporter pad. Everything around her then seemed to suddenly slow down, and grow sluggish. Water was dripping there as well, and there was a sound in the ceiling like the roar of a raging river. Above it all, she could again hear the barking. It was louder, and closer this time. Her uniform shirt had gone from red to purple, and she wondered why she'd replicated one that was far too large for her. Looking up, she saw the transporter room ceiling had become like the vault of a great church. _

"_Engage!" she ordered the Vulcan Captain at the console, who dutifully tapped in the coordinates. Janeway dematerialised… _

…_It was warm and invigorating in the realm of energy. There was something about it that was nurturing and protective. She was also aware of another presence, following her closely through the whirling scatter of their particles. It wasn't sentient yet, but she knew it would soon come to be. It was human, but it had yet to fully exist. All she knew was that she loved it already…_

…_She heard the squeal of a frightened beast, followed by hoofbeats. A black horse appeared out of the white fog, bolting straight toward her – the whites of his eyes showing._

"_Chakotay?" she'd asked, almost whispering…_

… The chime of an incoming message alert broke Janeway's concentration. She quickly saved the log, and checked her workstation. It was a text reply from another recipient of her Pathfinder requests, addressed from Colonel Kira of Deep Space Nine – and the info tab on the message indicated it was slightly longer than the other two she'd gotten so far. She keyed it open, and read:

_To Vice-Admiral Janeway, Starfleet Command._

_In regard to your enquiry to have the Pathfinder project hosted on my starbase - I am interested, as is the Bajoran government. We have mutually agreed that this has the potential to be of great benefit to both Bajor and the Federation. _

_I will need more details about what will be required to install and run the project, and I will also want to know what funding and assistance you will be prepared to arrange for that. I trust that you will be also be able to organize the transportation of the equipment yourself, as our own time and resources are still limited, and I will have great difficulty persuading my government to spare a ship for a round trip to Earth. _

_I await your response._

_Colonel Kira, Deep Space Nine._

… No sooner than Janeway'd finished reading the message, than a second alert chimed, and then a third straight after that. This time, both were via subspace – and therefore required a real-time reply. One look at the sender's addresses, and she almost groaned at the choice in front of her – which to answer, and which to put on hold. One was from the Bursar of Gretel's school, and it was marked urgent. The other was from Lieutenant Stone, of Starfleet security.

-o0o-

_A/N – Janeway saying "Engage" instead of "Energise" in her dream was deliberate._

'_ctbs' = calm before the storm._


	16. Chapter 15: Altercations

**Title: **Tabula Rasa, Chapter 15: Altercations

**Author: **Ghosteye99

**Notes: **I couldn't get a lot about the Iconians from either Memory Alpha or the Star Trek Online Wiki, so some details about their technology/social behaviour etc had to be made up, and is therefore unlikely to end up being true to Canon either way. Finally, I'm able to start making the dangling plot bits join up in the places where I want them (Which is easy for _me_ to say, since I know what's supposed to happen). If this does all start getting too confusing for some readers, my best advice is to just keep your eyes on Janeway, Chakotay and the children - and let the rest of the background stuff blur past. You'll at least keep the gist that way.

**Warnings:** Capslock!Dialogue and two minor rude words.

**Disclaimer: **Characters and setting belong to Paramount Pictures, not me. No profit or harm intended. This is a fanfiction, not Canon.

**Chapter 15: Altercations**

**Leonard McCoy Memorial School, San Francisco:**

"_He's not half-dead!_" Gretel screamed at the growing knot of girls gathered around her. "_He's not! HE'S NOT!_"

"You _could_ be right, weirdo …" a Human girl sneered, slowly circling Gretel, who turned as she walked to keep in eye-contact with her assailant. Some of the boys were starting to drift over to watch as well…

"… since he might _not_ be half-dead. When you think of it, _how_ can a baby brother be half-dead … if he's not even _real?_"

"_HE'S REAL!_ _GIVE HIM BACK TO ME!_" Gretel leapt forward to make a grab at the older girl – who nimbly hopped aside. She balled her hand into a fist, and took a swing – and missed – the onlookers shrank back from her volley as the bully did. Gretel Janeway was small for her age, but she could hit – as another girl had found out fifteen minutes ago, when she'd earned herself a black eye after being the first to snatch her pendant.

"You mean _this _tacky piece of trash?" The girl held up the little Duranium seashell that had been tossed to her in the resulting scuffle. She waggled it back and forth before Gretel's grief-twisted face – taunting her. When Gretel made another grab for it, she snatched it back. "Is _this_ where you think your half-dead pretend baby brother lives?" Holding it up, she peeked into the tiny, delicately fluted opening. "Nope," she said, "I can't see him there. Can _you_?" – and then she casually tossed the pendant to the other girl she'd addressed; a part-Vulcan, with distinctive Bajoran nose-ridges.

"I do not believe that this object can contain an entire human buffer pattern," the other haughtily replied, raising one eyebrow. "Even that of an infant. Your presumption is highly illogical, Janeway. I advise that you desist in your delusional line of belief. Perhaps Lowe can assist you in that?" – and she tossed the pendant back to Lowe, the first bully – who caught it neatly.

"Made of Duranium, you say?" Lowe smirked. "I still reckon I can get the Science Room replicator to recycle it. _I_ can get past the safeties, Janeway … I picked up a lot of things from my dad. You _know_ he's a Chief engineer on a _tactical_ starship as well as a _Commander_? And I've heard he's going to be made a Captain soon. _Your_ dad doesn't even have a proper rank. He wasn't even a _proper_ Commander. _I_ think they'll just make him an Ensign again when he finishes training. And I hope he stays one forever, or gets busted down to crewman. Serves him right for joining the Maquis and marrying a _Borg!_"

"_I HOPE YOU NEVER GET TO BE A CAPTAIN!_" Gretel screamed back, "_I HOPE YOU JUST MARRY A REALLY MEAN MAN, AND ALL YOUR CHILDREN WILL RUN AWAY FROM YOU WHEN THEY GROW UP AND LEAVE YOU ALL ALONE WHEN YOU GET OLD!"_

"Hah!" Lowe spat, making sure she could be heard above the sniggering crowd. "Everyone!" she said, addressing her audience like an orator, "… as you can see, not only is this _Janeway_ here a weirdo – she's also a moron … and quite a boring one at that! Anyway, who says _I'm_ going to marry – _or_ have kids? Lots of Starfleet Captains don't marry, they just have lovers … and when _I_ get there, _I'm_ going to have a _string_ of handsome men of _every_ species waiting for me in _every_ colony and starbase I've _ever_ been. If I ever want an heir, I'll just clone myself. Maybe I'll even have a crew of _only _men, all waiting on my every word …"

…an adult hand clapped firmly on Lowe's shoulder, and held her in an iron grip.

"That's enough of your sordid little speech, young woman!" a slightly burred woman's voice growled from behind her. "Hand me the pendant!"

"Aunt Kathy …" Gretel whimpered, as she sat down in shock. She heard the sound of running feet suddenly stop, followed by the distinctive sound of another woman trying to get her breath back.

"My apologies, Admiral …" she puffed.

"It's all right, Miss Brand," Admiral Janeway replied, releasing her grip on Lowe – who immediately tried to slink back into the crowd. "You!" Janeway ordered – pointing at the girl. "Stay right where you are!"

"… This is _so_ totally unacceptable …" Lieutenant Brand blathered on, "… when my mother finds out who's responsible for this, she'll make sure heads will roll …"

"I'm sure _Admiral_ Brand will prefer to leave the matter in _your_ capable hands," Janeway replied, whilst quietly wondering how the Head of Starfleet Academy herself could have raised such an inept specimen of a teacher…

"Admiral, if I may …" another girl's voice cut in. Janeway turned to see a part-Vulcan standing primly in the crowd. "Your point?" she demanded.

"I believe that it may have been _your_ daughter who initiated this conflict," she replied.

"_VALAIN T'PARQ,_ _THAT IS NOT TRUE!_" Gretel bawled, outraged.

"Be quiet, Gretel!" Janeway said, firmly – and Gretel sensed something in her tone which told her that her Aunt Kathy had her back in this - and that she needed to trust her, and behave. She bit her lip, and nodded.

"Why do you believe that?" Janeway asked the girl, T'Parq.

"It was _her_ who escaped from detention before she had been appropriately dismissed," she replied.

"I know she'd been put into detention for assault," Janeway replied, "That's why I was called to the school. I'm going to get _her_ side of the story as well, but I want to know what happened."

"She gave Dern a black eye," T'Parq smugly answered. "She was put into detention for it, but she overrode the door lock and returned to the playground … where she resumed her harassment of both myself and Lowe."

"Lowe?"

T'Parq nodded toward the girl Janeway had seized - who nodded sourly in reply.

"Why?" Janeway asked.

"We wanted to look at Gretel's pendant," she explained, "but when Dern asked, she suddenly became irrational, and assaulted her."

Janeway shot Gretel a look. "Is this true?" she demanded.

"I did hit Dern." Gretel replied, trying to hold down her anger. "But it was because Dern tried to take Chuen away from me when I showed him to her. I didn't do it for no reason."

"Thank you, Gretel," Janeway muttered. Looking back to Brand - who was the school's Bursar – she asked. "What were _you_ told?"

"Pretty much the same thing as what T'Parq said," Brand replied.

"Did you ask for an explanation from Gretel?"

"Yes," Brand said, "and she told me the same as what she's just told you."

Janeway stood back up to her full height, and surveyed the onlookers. "Are any of you willing to come forward as witnesses?" she demanded.

The crowd of students fell silent, except for the shuffle of shoes. The sound of bird chatter and the wind in the playground trees took on an unpleasant sharpness to her ears.

"I want to know the truth of what happened here, now!" She continued. "Because if I don't, I _will _look into this. There are people I can send here who you won't be able to lie to. I will know what really happened - so you can either say nothing, and be interviewed by an inspector - or someone can speak up now, and save everyone's time. What will it be?"

"Admiral…" a boy's voice piped up from the back of the crowd. Janeway looked, and saw a black-haired boy of about Gretel's age, with dark wide eyes and fair skin. A similar-looking girl was beside him - she wondered if the two were siblings. "Yes, young man?" she asked.

"I'm Don Riker," he replied, as the two stepped through the wall of bodies into the open space where Gretel still sat, wiping her tears. "And this is my twin sister Jumara. We didn't see what happened – but I _know_ that Gretel is telling the truth, and T'Parq is lying. We _both_ can tell; our mother is part Betazoid."

"Riker?" Janeway asked, as she fished through her pockets to find a clean handkerchief for Gretel. "Are your parents on the _Enterprise_?"

"My mother is," Don said, "My father is Captain of the _Titan_."

Janeway looked at Brand, who nodded. "Then I can see no reason to doubt you," she said, and looked back at the crowd. "But I still need other witnesses," she added, "Enough of you would have _seen_ what happened. Now is the time to speak up!"

A little Bolian girl shuffled timidly forward out of the crowd. "I saw what happened," she whispered, glancing nervously up at T'Parq and Lowe's glares. An older Human boy stepped out to join her, followed by a tiny Vulcan girl even smaller than the Bolian. Soon, a considerable knot of witnesses had gathered behind Gretel.

"I think you can take things from there," Janeway said to Lieutenant Brand. "But when you've finished, I want a report of this incident sent directly to me. That's an order."

"Yes, Admiral." Brand replied. "As for all of you here," she said, addressing the gathered children, "Gretel, Don, Jumara, and everyone else who stepped forward will follow me to the counsellor's office. Valain T'Parq and Hazel Lowe, _you_ will come with me to see the Principal … and you _both_ will tell him the truth. The rest of you are dismissed until end of recess!"

As she began ferrying the group off to the Admin block, Janeway put a hand on Gretel's shoulder.

"Could I have a brief moment with Gretel, Lieutenant?"

"Of course, Admiral," Brand replied, as she led the others away.

Janeway crouched down before the girl, and took off her uniform jacket. Folding it back, she used the cleanest part of the inside lining to carefully wipe at Gretel's eyes and cheeks, which were thoroughly muddied over with tears and dust. "I should really replicate a packet of wipes to keep handy," she muttered – and then spotted a drinking fountain. The water would be clean; Federation law required that all public fountains be fitted with an anti-contamination field.

"C'mon," she said, leading Gretel over to it, "we'll clean you up properly over there."

-o0o-

After a few minutes, Janeway had Gretel cleaned up, dusted off and looking presentable again. She righted her uniform jacket and put it back on, and fixed her commbadge back in the correct spot – then knelt back down in front of her.

"Is Dern a Bolian?" she asked. Gretel nodded. "You were very lucky," she said, sternly. "If you'd made her bleed, you would have had to go to sick bay. Bolian body fluids are very corrosive to most other humanoids, including us."

"You're not mad at me for hitting?"

"I don't approve of the unnecessary use of violence," Janeway replied, tidying up Gretel's hair and putting the clip back in. "I accept that you were defending something … but in the future, don't hit people as a first resort, unless your protecting something important and you can see no other way. And _always_ look to see if there_ is_ another way first. _Understand me?_"

"Yes Mo… I mean, yes Aunt Kathy," Gretel replied.

"Good," Janeway said … fighting down a sudden lump in her throat at the near-slip Gretel had just made. "Now, I'll walk with you to the Counsellor's office, then I'll have to be back at work. And promise me something …"

"Yes?"

"…That you'll try to make some friends. People get bullied more if they are alone, Gretel, and good friends will stay by you for life. The Riker twins look like they're the good type, why don't you talk to them more, and maybe mix with _their_ friends too?"

"They're _empaths_," Gretel said, uncomfortably.

"There's nothing wrong with that," Janeway replied, "I've got a lot of old friends who are empaths _and_ telepaths. It's good for a human, helps to keep one honest. Will you _try_ them?"

Gretel looked thoughtful for a moment.

"I will, Aunt Kathy," she replied.

-o0o-

**A Space/Time Dimension far beyond the Kuiper Belt, and the 21****st**** Century:**

Braxton's image vanished as the commlink closed. The being turned from the console to face the others of his kind assembled in the room.

"Your Analysis!" he ordered.

"The Human is performing satisfactorily." One among the group said. "His degree of awareness also remains suitably restricted. He still believes that he is the one who is in control of this operation, and he also believes that the children are the primary targets."

"The Temporally displaced have always proven to be useful in the distraction and manipulation of the ethics of 35th Century Federation Citizens - like the one you just saw, whom we are using." The first one asserted. "I believe the same species even had some ancient informal terms for such uses – 'Scapegoat' is one, if my memory is right. 'Red Herring' is another."

The other Iconians stared back at him blankly. "Look them up in the Greater Database," he snarled. "That is an order!"

Turning back to the console, he waved his hand over it, and a 3D holomap immediately appeared where the viewscreen had been. It rippled above him like a mirage, and was veined throughout in an intricate network of shimmering lines and dots.

"Ensure that this Human male continues to believe what we require him to believe," he said softly – running his long, pale fingers through the lines, like a spider testing his web. "But _you_ must not forget _our_ primary target. It is _not_ the children … they are merely the bait … the means by which we shall draw _our_ quarry into a position of maximum vulnerability. The key obstructing factor to our return to power … whom we_ must_ eliminate from this timeline soon, if we are to eventually succeed in reclaiming this Galaxy … is not _them_. It is the Human female herself … All of you must remember that!"

-o0o-

**Medium-Security Holding Facility, Starfleet Security:**

"With all due respect, I don't see why Marla Lessing's case needs to be investigated any further. The woman had plenty of motives to do what she did, and it's practically certain she holds a grudge against Starfleet. I don't see why we should suspect anything else to be the case."

"And yet, you didn't request a statement from her husband when you arrested her?" Janeway replied. "Lieutenant, I find that highly irregular."

"We didn't think it was relevant," Lieutenant Stone replied.

"Well, I think it's unprofessional," Janeway said. "However, I believe Mr. Lessing has just submitted a very comprehensive statement to your department, so I suggest that you make use of it. Now, about the items she stole …"

The young woman pursed her lips. "That information is classified." She said.

"I'm a _Vice-Admiral_, Lieutenant …"

"You can talk with _Admiral_ Knox about them, if you need to know," She replied, smugly.

"Are you under orders not to discuss them?"

"Yes," Stone finally snapped.

Not for the first time, Janeway wished she'd had a Betazoid or two in her own ancestry. Some empathic ability could've been useful in a situation like this … but she decided to just take a chance.

"I assume that I have the rank to demand more information about the items that were stolen?" she ventured. Stone glared at her.

"_Do_ I?" Janeway demanded.

"Yes," Stone replied. "You do have _just_ enough rank to ask me _some_ questions about it … _Vice_-Admiral."

"Then I trust that Knox won't mind _me_ asking _you_ if any of the stolen items have since been found and returned. _Were_ they?"

"No."

"So none have been recovered yet?"

"Yes. You are correct."

Janeway suppressed a sigh of frustration. She needed another coffee – badly.

"Could you describe what kind of items were taken?" she asked.

"Classified. I suggest you take_ that_ question to Knox, Vice-Admiral."

Janeway ground her teeth so hard she thought she almost broke one. For a moment, she had a wild fantasy of holding her phaser to Stone until she changed her attitude … or maybe just replicated a large jar of instant coffee powder for her … she suppressed the thought.

"When is Marla Lessing likely to be released to go home?" she asked.

"Lessing is under indefinite detention." Stone replied.

"Why?" Janeway demanded.

"Health reasons."

"Elaborate," she ordered.

"Marla Lessing is showing severe signs of mental instability," Stone explained.

"Do you know the cause?" Janeway asked.

"Not yet," Stone said, "But we _are_ running some tests."

"Have they shown anything?"

"Nothing conclusive, yet …" Stone replied.

"Then I'll make an appointment to see her myself." Janeway said. "Today, if possible."

Lieutenant Stone flipped her monitor around, and opened her visitor's roster. "When does your shift end today?" she asked.

"1530 Hours," Janeway replied.

"There is a free visit slot at 1500 hours," she said, "thirty minutes maximum."

"I'll take it," Janeway said. "I'll be there on that time."

-o0o-

**Leonard McCoy Memorial School:**

"Hi Gretel," Don Riker said, "What are you doing?"

Gretel Janeway looked up from the patch of clover she'd been playing with. She'd been studying one of the pink, clustered flowers, deconstructing it section by section, and trying to memorise how the whole thing was put together. Clovers on _this_ Earth were like nothing like anything she'd known back home on New Earth, and the complete alien-ness of their form was fascinating to her.

"Nothing," she lied, putting the flower down with a shrug.

"You can't lie to _us_, Gretel Janeway." Jumara Riker added, but she said it in a playful and kind way. "You were looking at that flower, and I sensed you having feelings of interest and nostalgia."

Gretel's mouth dropped open for a moment, and then she closed it – and raised her chin assertively.

"Well, I 'spose you're right on_ that_." She huffed, trying to hide her nervousness at having her feelings exposed. "Where I lived, all the flowers are simple, not complex like this one."

"Alien flowers?" Jumara sat down next to her, and Don followed suite. "Please tell us about them."

"They're from the Delta Quadrant," Gretel said, importantly. "And they're from a planet Mother and Father and Chuen and I lived on, called New Earth. If you want, I can take you to the library, where I can draw some of them for you so you know what they look like …"

-o0o-

**Janeway's Office, Starfleet Command:**

The day had been going like crap, and Janeway _needed_ a coffee. It was now a matter of urgency… and if the Doctor's damned rationing wouldn't let her replicator make any, then she was fully prepared to invade every office in the building until someone got her one.

"Coffee, black, hot!" she demanded to the machine – and, to her great relief, a mug of steaming black liquid materialised. She sighed with joy, and took the beverage back to her desk. She'd no sooner had the mug up to her lips for a life-saving sip, though, than her message alert chimed. Janeway swore under her breath, took a taste of the scalding liquid, and saw that the message was addressed from Commander Troi of the _Enterprise E_, on a high-security channel. She pressed the answer tab.

"Yes, Commander?" she replied.

"Admiral," Troi asked, "Firstly, before I give the main message, Don and Jumara have asked me and Will permission to allow them to visit your house to visit Gretel. I want to know if that's acceptable with you."

"It is," Janeway replied. "I have already arranged a nanny to look after Gretel when she finishes school, until I can get home from work. I think she could do with some more good company from her own age group."

"I agree," Troi said, "the twins had been becoming too isolated at school. It would be good for all of them … Will and I'd like to have them with us if we could, but our new Captain's orders are to allow no children onboard unless they're visiting or passengers. The _Titan's_ also been in too many incidents lately for Will to be comfortable letting them stay with him. They've been boarding with Jeanne Riker – she's Will's second cousin, but she has no children of her own, and both of us have been concerned about them becoming too insular with their peers. Gretel will be good for them."

Janeway nodded, allowing herself a warm smile. "I'm glad I can help. Visiting permission granted … now, what was that high-security matter you wanted to discuss?"

The bright smile Troi wore quickly disappeared.

"This concerns the_ Challenger's_ mission to track down Ro Laren," she replied, sombrely. "This is classified, Admiral … but we've got word today from Captain LaForge that she's just been found."

"And?"

"She _is_ with the Borg." Troi said. "Not only that, she has come to Hugh's collective, and since joining, she has secured a number of spacecraft for them."

"_Hugh's_ collective?" Janeway mused, remembering the Drone-come-liberator that LaForge had befriended on the _Enterprise D_. "I can understand why that would need watching, but I don't think that should be too great a problem - in fact, I think Ro could become a great asset to their movement … _if_ her personal demons don't cause any disruptions."

"_That_ has been a concern," Troi replied. "… Especially since there's been some disturbing additional evidence that she may also be moving to being installed as a Queen of that collective …"

"_Queen?_" she nearly dropped her coffee. "_No_ … surely Hugh wouldn't allow it! _A Queen?_"

Beyond Troi's sight, Janeway's hands gripped the edge of her desk to steady herself. The Borg had become scattered and few in the Alpha and Beta Quadrants since she'd destroyed their transwarp hub on the way home, over ten years ago. She'd entertained a fanciful hope since then that the remaining collectives could be enlightened by Hugh, and his comrades. A new Queen arising could spell a disastrous return to the old ways … unless …

"Do you know how individuated she is?" she asked.

"No," Troi replied. "Hugh will exert his influence, but for all we know, she could still be totally assimilated deep down. She may even want to stay that way – she's had a lot of terrible life experiences, both as a child _and_ after she joined the Maquis and was captured by the Cardassians … she may have eventually come to percieve being part of a Borg collective as an escape from that pain, and also as a means of empowerment."

"I can guess," Janeway said, and then thought of Ro Mera. "Should Cadet Ro be contacted yet?"

"No," Troi said, "the fact that she's even been found is still classified, and I don't believe it will be wise to tell her until we know more of Ro Laren's mental condition, and what she and her collective are planning. Ro Mera also has strong feelings of anger toward her mother for abandoning her in that prison camp when she was a baby. We need to learn more of _Laren's_ side of that story, if possible."

"Yes…" Janeway replied, darkly. "And a Queen like Ro in Hugh's collective …that could either break them apart, or unite them even more. She could be another driving force toward their enlightenment … or she could pull them back into an era of darkness and terror even deeper than the one that they're struggling to emerge from."

"Now you understand the problem." Troi said.

Janeway drummed her fingers sharply on her desktop. "What you've just told me is yet another reason why we _need_ things like the Pathfinder project!" she snapped. "Which right now, we should be expanding through all the Quadrants we can make it reach – _not _shutting it down!"

-o0o-


	17. Chapter 16: Memories and Consequences

**Title: **Tabula Rasa, Chapter 16: Memories and Consequences

**Author: **Ghosteye99

**Warning: **Flashbacks to a previous death scene.

**Disclaimer: **Characters and setting belong to Paramount Pictures and CBS, not me. No profit or harm intended. This is a fanfiction, not Canon.

**Chapter 16: Memories and Consequences**

**Admiral Janeway's Office, Starfleet Command:**

No sooner had Commander Troi signed out, than the chime on Janeway's workstation came alive again – informing her that she had three messages pending all at once. Two of these she put on hold, and the third she answered. "Admiral Brand," she said, in greeting to the white-haired woman on the screen. "What can I do for you?"

"I've heard some disturbing news about an incident at the school," Brand replied. "I've heard my daughter's side of things, but _I_ want to know the truth."

"Fortunately, I can help you with that," Janeway said, "I'd received an urgent callout about Gretel, regarding an assault accusation, but I managed to get over there just in time to be an eyewitness to a rather ugly little scene. Though Gretel _has_ admitted to attacking on the other student - both to me _and_ to the staff – I believe that this was not unprovoked. I also witnessed her being bullied verbally, and her personal property being threatened as well."

"Something like this shouldn't have happened, especially in a Starfleet school!" Brand shook her head. "I'm going to have a word with Rosalind. I _told_ her that her school was becoming too understaffed …"

Janeway cocked an eyebrow. "Surely, that shouldn't be a problem." She said, "If she's having trouble getting staff, I can soon find her enough suitable officers ..."

"_Getting_ them is not the problem," Brand replied. "It's_ keeping_ them. The school regularly takes in officers who are on temporary light duties, or ship leave, or else they're doing part-time studies and need something else to fill in their extra shift-time. Once that's all over, they're gone on the next starship – or off to a colony somewhere. I think you'd understand that yourself; I certainly felt that way in my day. There's not many Starfleet officers who'll be content to merely walk around a schoolyard on Earth, when they could be somewhere else in the galaxy."

"Have you suggested recruiting some civilian teachers?" Janeway ventured. "They could serve in an unranked position, after they go through an induction and take the oath. There may even be some ex-Starfleet people among them, who might be more than happy to help keep order in a school."

Brand looked thoughtful. "Don't inform Rosalind," she said, "but I am going to pay a short visit to her school today. I'll take your suggestions on board, and see if I can find some suitable candidates to suggest to her. I must admit she has been a bit too narrow in her recruitment criteria for my liking … I had spoken with her in the past about rejecting good applicants over irrelevant details."

"I'll keep my silence on that," Janeway assured – from the impression she'd got of Lieutenant Rosalind Brand while at the school, she felt the woman could do with a little shakeup from her mother. "I've got a good shortlist of my own ready if you need it," she added. "I saved it from when I was looking for after-school care for Gretel."

"Send them through to me," Brand replied. "The more, the better. She should be able to find enough from your list and the one I'll make. It will help with the supervision problems, and the students will also benefit from the smaller class sizes and wider subject range."

"And hopefully put an end to any further bullying." Janeway said.

"That is my hope, too. Brand Out."

Janeway fingered the little seashell pendant under her uniform – she'd swapped it with the acorn, on Gretel's request – and looked at the two other messages on hold; choosing the one marked from Commander Lowe, of the _USS Fortitude B_.

He was, as she'd thought, Hazel Lowe's father. However, he hadn't – as she'd feared, messaged to complain – but to apologise. Janeway realised he was genuinely shocked over his daughter's conduct in the incident, and (to her relief) not _just_ because her victim was an Admiral's child. By the end of the transmission, he'd made his intentions clear – he would submit a request for Hazel to be transferred to the school on the deep-space research ship his Lieutenant wife served on. The couple had decided that she was old enough now to live on a starship, and that she would benefit from more regular time with her parents. The remorse and disappointment he expressed was great, and Janeway quietly felt for the couple. She also hoped that the lurid details of their girl's hormonally-induced little speech wouldn't get back to them _too_ quickly.

After he signed out, she attended to the final message – which she'd left to the last, because she knew the sender well enough to know she would wait.

"Seven," she said. "What can I do?"

"Admiral Janeway," Seven replied. "I need to inform you that I have just been assigned to assist in a classified investigation mission. I will be suspending my training until it has been completed."

"I believe I know of that one," Janeway replied. "Regarding the intentions of the Borg, Ro Laren?"

"That is correct," Seven replied. "But our instructions are to go further than investigations. We are to attempt to emancipate her, and bring her to Earth for further questioning."

"Earth?" Janeway said. "Wouldn't Bajor, or deep Space Nine be more appropriate?"

"If we are successful, she will be returned to Bajor _after_ initial questioning at Starfleet Command," Seven answered. "That is all that I am permitted to tell you via subspace."

"It looks like you'll be away for a while, then." Janeway said.

"It is estimated that the mission could take up to a year to complete," Seven replied, "though if all things proceed in the optimum way, I will be able to resume my previous schedule within six months."

"Six months?"

"The Borg Ro has been located in a very remote part of space, near the border of the Alpha and Beta Quadrants," Seven said. "The slipstream drive on her cube may have been severely damaged, and it has been observed scavenging from derelict structures. This means that it may be low on essential supplies, and also that it may be temporarily incapable of transwarp. Much of the time allocated for the mission will be taken up with travel and preparations. It is our intention to reach the cube before its drones can sufficiently repair it."

"You'll be away for a while, then." Janeway said. "Don't worry about Gretel, I'll be more than happy to take care of her."

"That is good to know," Seven said, and there was a hint of relief in her tone.

"Regarding Ro," Janeway continued, "I was informed that she was with Hugh's collective."

"That is only partly correct, Admiral." Seven replied. "Some of Hugh's collective have made contact with hers, but though some of its drones have since defected,the collective itself has not converted."

"I've also heard that Ro may be on the way to becoming a Queen."

"That is highly likely." Seven said, "If she has not become one already…"

Their conversation was interrupted by another chime, this time from Janeway's commbadge. "Janeway here," she said.

"_It's the Doctor_," Came the reply, "_I believe you had an appointment to interview Marla Lessing in fifteen minutes?_"

"I did," she said. "Why, is there anything wrong?"

"_Mrs. Lessing has just collapsed, and she's been taken to my infirmary_," the Doctor said. "_She won't be available for the interview, for obvious reasons_."

"I still want to see her," Janeway replied. "I'll be there soon."

"_Then I'll be expecting you. The Doctor Out_."

Turning back to Seven, she said; "There's been a development with a security incident in Starfleet Engineering. Tell me the rest of what I might need to know about your mission, but after that I'll have to go."

"I understand," Seven replied.

-o0o-

**Leonard McCoy Memorial School, San Francisco:**

"Here's the flower of the coneapple tree," Gretel said, as she picked out a colour, and guided the stylus around the screen. "No, that one's not right." She added, as the little group around her watched. "I'll have to delete it and do it again. I picked the wrong kind of red. It has to be darker." She went back to the menu, and chose an almost blood red hue. "The real ones look better," she said. "I wish I had some of their seeds with me when I went on the transporter. Then, I could have planted some when I came here, and you would all know what they _properly_ look like."

"Were there _really_ samples brought back from your planet in your original timeline?" T'Yahn whispered in awe; she was the little first-year Vulcan girl who'd stepped up in support of Gretel during the bullying incident earlier.

"That would have been nice if you could've done," Jalwat – the Bolian second year who'd been the first to step in to defend her - added.

"Yes," Jumara Riker said. "They way you say how they taste, I wish they could've let you."

"They're a nice tree as well," Gretel said, as she carefully outlined a feathery-edged petal - trying to get it right from memory, "… and their flowers also smell nice when they come out. They smell like chocolate and honey all together."

"If it smelt of _chocolate_, Mother would've loved them!" Jumara replied, with a knowing giggle that her twin brother Don shared.

"She would've grown a yard full of 'em, until there was nothing but a forest!" Don agreed. "We wouldn't be able to move _anywhere_ because of all the chocolate trees!"

"She would make the _Enterprise_ have a whole cargo bay full of coneapple saplings!" Jumara said. "Imagine … a _real_ forest on a starship! Not just some holograms …_ real_ trees!"

"That would be nice!" Jalwat said. "If I ever get to be a Captain, that's what I'll do. I'll have an arboretum full of trees and plants beamed in from everywhere I go, and some from home. You can all come to visit me, and we'll all play in my forest when I'm off-duty."

"A forest on a starship _might_ be logical," T'Yahn mused, as Gretel kept drawing. "If it is positioned correctly, so that the mass of the trees and the soil does not interfere with the ship's manoeuvrability. Some supports would need to be put in, so that it does not make the inertial dampeners use up more power. But it could help with life support, and make extra food and medicines if the right species are grown…"

"Jalwat, you might have to ask an Admiral first, if you want to grow trees on a starship." Don said. "Captains don't always get to do what they want with their ships. It's not like getting a house; starships belong to Starfleet, so you've got to be careful what you do to them. Dad says they're allowed to order little things like engine refits and computer enhancements, but for _big_ things, you have to ask an Admiral."

"That's ok," Jalwat said, "I'll ask Gretel's mother. _She's_ an Admiral. _My_ mother knows her, because when she was an Ensign back in the Delta Quadrant, she was her Captain. _She'll_ say yes."

Gretel stopped drawing, and stared at the half-finished flower. Then, with a few strokes of her stylus, she deleted it – and wiped angrily at a tear.

"Don't do _that!_" Don said, staring at the screen in shock.

"Gretel, what's wrong?" Jumara asked.

"Jalwat, that's Aunt Kathy!" Gretel said; her voice cracking. "My mother _wasn't_ an Admiral, she was a _Captain_. She only _looks_ like Aunt Kathy, but she's _dead!_"

"Oh…"

"How did she die?" Don asked … and Gretel shot a look at him; and the raw force of her grief made him recoil. Jumara herself caught the feeling a split second later, and the two siblings instinctively clutched at each other … for a moment unable to do much more than stare, and try to blink away tears from the erupting emotional pain that Gretel had buried. Jalwat looked from Gretel to the twins, quickly understanding what was happening between the bereaved human child and the empaths.

"T'Yahn," she said, "please help them!"

"I will," T'Yahn said, and she came up to Gretel – who was sobbing quietly in front of the screen. "Please," she said, "I can do something that will help you."

"What … help?" Gretel said, "Mother's … dead! You … _can't_ … help!"

"I can help your emotions." T'Yahn said. "My grandfather taught it to me, and it works on humans as well as Vulcans. Your emotions will still be there, but they won't hurt you as much. You will be able to control them and keep thinking properly."

"Yes," Gretel replied, "Please do it!"

"T'Yahn, you're not going to try to do a _mind meld?_" Don asked sharply, becoming concerned.

"I don't know how to do _those_ yet." T'Yahn replied. "_This_ is something else."

She turned to Gretel. "Please turn around to face me, and close your eyes."

Gretel did so.

T'Yahn carefully put her fingertips against the older girl's temples, adjusting them a little until she had them on exactly the right points.

"Now," she said, "think of the memories that made those feelings come, and don't try to stop them."

"I … don't want to." Gretel said.

"You must!" T'Yahn ordered. "I am here. I know how to help you."

Gretel closed her eyes again, and forced herself to let back into her consciousness the awful memories that, to her, only happened a few months ago. Her mother, calling out to her father … and then falling on her knees because her tummy hurt … her father, telling her to go away to the pink rocks to play … the faint crying she could still hear even from the cabin … her mother smiling at her, tired and weak - but with her new baby brother whimpering in the crook of her arm … helping her father tip out the laundry-barrel each day afterwards, and seeing how red the water was … father, taking her over to the shelter, barely able to talk … her mother, lying very still in her bunk. Her mother, not moving or saying hello when she ran over to hug her … her pale skin already going tepid, when it should have been warm like it was when she'd hugged her that the morning …

"_No…_" she sobbed. T'Yahn suddenly caught her breath … and then, she regained control, and screwed up her face as she concentrated. Suddenly, things changed. Gretel's memories continued to play through her mind, but _something _stopped them from hurting her. _Something_ caused her consciousness to slowly drift back from the pain, until she could observe it without being swamped in it … like she'd feel when observe a bug, or a flower, or an interesting seed. Soon, she was able to make her crying stop … and not long after that, T'Yahn took her hands away … and flopped down against the console, looking very tired.

"Thank you, T'Yahn." Gretel said, so awed she almost whispered. "Are you all right?"

T'Yahn's complexion had paled from her usual olive brown to a nasty sallow colour, but she nodded stoically.

"You will later need to share those memories properly," she added, quietly. "Because if you don't, they will take over a lot of your mind, and they'll control your emotions."

"Did you _see _what was in my mind?" Gretel asked, warily. T'Yahn nodded.

"Did you see how my mother died?"

T'Yahn nodded again.

Jumara got up, and went over to the replicator. "Orange juice. Two, cool." She said, and then came back with the mugs – handing one to T'Yahn, and the other to Gretel, who looked at it, and gave it a sniff.

"Haven't you _had_ orange juice before?" Jumara asked.

"No," Gretel replied, clutching the acorn pendant she'd swapped with Aunt Kathy – thinking of Chuen being safe with her helped her to regain her composure. Aunt Kathy had told her that the acorn held memories, which she thought would hurt less than to lose than her brother. The memories of her mother's death still shadowed through the back of her mind, but she felt she could push them back in their place again, if they threatened to cross the line.

"I know orange is a colour …but I didn't believe it was something you could _drink_." She said, to Jumara. "I remember Father trying to make some for me once … but the replicator wasn't working, and he wouldn't let me try any. He had to recycle it."

"Oranges are an Earth fruit," Jumara said, "Try it! It's nice. It's full of vitamins."

Gretel took a sip, and pulled a face at the tartness of the unsweetened juice … but then her expression changed as she came to appreciate the taste, and soon, she'd finished all of it.

"It _is_ nice," she said, "almost like starberries, but more sour … and not as salty."

"Starberries?" Don asked.

"We had them on New Earth," she said. "They're black, with tiny silvery dots on their skins like stars. They grow in bunches on bushes with little furry leaves like this," … she picked up the stylus to draw one - and remembered what she'd done with her flower drawing.

"Oh," she said, "the coneapple flower … I stupidly deleted it!"

"Here," Don said, "you've still got the program open. Just touch this tab, and when the menu comes up, you can restore it."

Gretel followed his instructions, and the blood-coloured flower once again filled the monitor screen. "You should save it," Jalwat said. "And do a print for your mo … your Aunt."

"It isn't properly finished yet," Gretel said, getting back to work. "I need to put the white veins in; and the black spots … and get the right purple for the pollen."

"What was that thing you just did to Gretel?" Jumara said to T'Yahn, who was still struggling through her drink. "It looked dangerous. I've heard Vulcans can sometimes be hurt by mind-things if they go wrong."

"My grandfather's method is safe," T'Yahn replied. "Otherwise, he would not have taught it to me."

"Where does your grandfather work?"

"He used to be a Commander on a Federation starbase," she said. "Starbase fifty-one. Then he became a Captain there, and now he's an Admiral in Starfleet Command. He'll go back to Vulcan to study when he retires."

"What about your mother and father?"

"My father is a Commander and a senior Science officer on the _T'Goax_, a Vulcan research ship," she said. "My mother is a Captain on a Federation escort ship. I am the youngest of three; I have a grown-up sister and brother. My grandfather is looking after me, but when my mother finishes her mission, she's going to take a transfer to Starfleet Tactical, so she can watch over the rest of my time in school."

"What'll happen after that?" Jalwat asked.

"I will be taken back to Vulcan, and to a Vulcan academy," she said, "and I will decide on the most logical path for my future when I'm there. My mother will then seek a post on another starship, either Vulcan _or_ Federation."

"_My_ mother became a Lieutenant Commander last year," Jalwat said. "My father wants to open a Bolian restaurant on Earth. He thinks people'll want something better when the craze for Bajoran food is over…"

By the time they'd finished talking, Gretel had finished drawing the flower, saved it on a datachip, and printed a copy.

"That's an interesting flower," someone said. "I don't think I've ever seen one like _that_ before."

Gretel and the other children looked up, to see a white-haired Human woman in an Admiral's uniform studying what she'd drawn on the monitor.

"Sorry, I should've properly introduced myself," she said, "I'm Admiral Brand, from Starfleet Academy. I'm just visiting your school. And _you_ are … Gretel Janeway?"

-o0o-

**Starfleet Medical:**

_For a fleeting moment, Marla Lessing clearly saw the concerned faces of the Doctor and her former Captain …but then everything greyed out again._

_The next thing she experienced was a sensation similar to being energised by a transporter … and then she was back on the bridge of that unfamiliar ship, surrounded by those oddly designed consoles, and the strange visual displays. The ship's sole occupant, though, who sat staring at her from the Captain's chair, was no alien. _

"_I have the items you requested, Captain."_

_The words seemed to fall out of her mouth whether she willed it or not. The experience was unsettling – like being merged inside a holographic character, and being able to see and hear what it did – but having no control over its actions._

_She watched her hand reach into a satchel she carried, and fished out a bag rattling with little canisters. The Captain rose from his chair, and walked over to one of the consoles. He touched it a few times, and a little tray poked out from a slot underneath it._

"_Give me the bag," he ordered. Marla obeyed._

_The Captain activated a holoscreen that hovered above the console, and one by one, he opened each of the canisters she'd brought him, and placed it on the tray. Each time, he grunted with satisfaction as the scanning field revealed it to be what he wanted. The last canister held a bundle of datachips, which he analysed individually – when he got to the one holding the logs of Chakotay and Janeway's family from the old timeline, a strange light came into his eyes, and he stashed that one into a slim metal tube he'd pulled out of one of his pockets. _

_Then, he put the rest back into their canisters along with the other items, and returned them to the bag. Picking up a PADD, he called up a list, and marked off its items one by one - there were still many he left unmarked - but by his demeanour, he seemed to be mostly satisfied._

"_There are some things missing," he said, when he was finally finished. "But these can be easily replicated. I will get you the tools you will need to obtain the appropriate codes, and I will program you with the information you'll need."_

_The Captain turned his back on her again … and that was when it came …_

-o0o-

"She's blacked out again, Admiral," the Doctor said, "hold on …" he picked up a hypospray, and applied it to her neck. Marla's eyes opened wide - her pupils dilated - as her whole body jerked violently, as if she'd been electrocuted. Then she went completely limp again … and her eyes slowly slid shut.

"Why isn't this working?" he muttered, reaching for a cortical stimulator. That didn't work either, though he tried it twice. "She's alive, and still relatively stable," he said to Janeway, between attempts, "but she's not regaining proper consciousness. I still don't know why this has suddenly happened!"

"When I learnt what had happened, I came here as soon as I could," she replied. "Do you have any hypothesis?"

"I've been picking up traces of Chroniton particles in her bloodstream and other body fluids," the Doctor replied, as he put away the stimulator and rearranged Marla into a more comfortable position. "My suspicion is that she may have picked them up from the items she stole when she broke into Starfleet Engineering. I'm expecting a reply from Commander Torres to confirm that possibility soon. What disturbs me more, though," he continued, "is that her neurotransmitter pattern strongly suggests that she has been exposed to a highly invasive form of mind control; judging by the levels I'm detecting, most likely from a device of some kind. I …"

The Doctor's commbadge suddenly chimed. "Excuse me, Admiral …" he said, as he hit it. "… The Doctor here!"

"_It's Commander Torres_," Torres replied, "_we've checked on all the items that were taken, none of them could have caused Marla Lessing's Chroniton residue. It must have come from something else._"

"Could she have time-jumped?" Janeway suggested. "The Doctor has found evidence of possible mind-control … and I'm now starting to wonder as to what might have really happened, and what might be behind it."

"_Can you tell me more, Admiral?_" Torres asked; "_I'm not sure that I get the connection._"

"I can't say for sure until I have more evidence," Janeway replied, "… but that aside, will you and Mr. Paris be free tonight, after work?"

"_If we can bring Miral, of course!_" Torres answered.

"Miral's always welcome," Janeway replied, "a casual family dinner, at my place, tonight at 1830 hours. Replicate whatever you want."

"_Sounds good to me_," Torres said. "_We'll be there_."

"Thanks," Janeway said, "I'll hand you back to the Doctor."

"Thank you, Admiral," he replied, bemusedly. "Commander, it looks like I'll have to either devise another hypothesis, or wait on Admiral Janeway's one."

"_Sorry we couldn't help you much this time, Doctor_." Torres replied, "_Torres Out_."

"And Doctor," Janeway said, "that dinner invitation includes _you_ as well."

"Thank you," the Doctor said, "Though …" An alarm sounded on one of Marla's readouts. "Excuse me," he said - as he took one look at it, and dived for his kit.

-o0o-

… _Everything around Marla ground into slow motion, and the very air on the bridge felt so thick that it seemed almost liquid. There was a heavy silence … followed by a sound that she hoped__ she'd never have to hear again outside her dreams. A high, piercing shriek that only meant one thing …_

_She tried to take a breath, tried to make a move to back away from the thing – but her body remained stock-still; she was paralysed, but somehow still standing. The rift in space she knew would soon open appeared before her … and she could see the creature waiting behind it. To a people far away, it was an angel of good fortune … but to her, and the few friends she had, it was a creature of vengeance …_

-o0o-

"She's still not responding to the hypospray," the Doctor replied. "Her neural wave activity is still too high and erratic, and the mnemonic feedback is getting worse!"

"Could she be having a kind of dream?" Janeway suggested.

"If it is," he replied, "it's more like a nightmare. A very violent one." He noted, looking at the wild readings on Marla's neural monitor. "One that may permanently damage her – or even kill her, if her neural feedback continues to escalate at that rate!"

-o0o-

… '_Who are you?' S__he asked it, mentally - too paralysed to physically speak._

'_That is of no importance.' The creature likewise replied – staying safely behind the rift as it made its words form in her mind._

'_Why are you here?'_

'_I am here to deliver justice.' It answered._

'_I know,' Marla thought in reply._

'_I have not come to kill you.' It told her. 'Though you deserve it. You, who of all of them could have stopped the murders.'_

'_How?' She asked._

'_Do not claim innocence before us,' it replied, 'you know how you failed.'_

'… _I could have sabotaged the engines.' She admitted. '… I could have made it look like it was a bad idea to use you. They would have soon stopped using your bodies.'_

'_Yet you did not do that.' The angel replied._

'_No, I did not.' She admitted._

'_You have incurred a debt so great that your deaths alone will be inadequate to erase it.' It continued. 'Because of that, upon your deaths that debt shall be passed on to your families, and to those who helped you … and their families … until it is fully eliminated.'_

'_No!' Marla thought. 'Not Joshua! Not my sister, not her family!'_

'_They will all pay the debt, when you and the others no longer can.' It replied. 'Yet I have been sent to offer you not execution, but an alternative means of erasure.'_

'_What is it?' She asked._

'_You will serve us.' It said. 'You and the others you collaborated with will agree to obey us for the remainder of your lives, and your offspring will do so for the duration of their youth. Do not attempt to negotiate with us on this offer; you forfeited that right at the moment that you murdered the first of our kind. Your choice is to either accept it, or to accept death. We will not alter that.'_

'_What if the others don't agree to this?' Marla replied._

'_As it was you who could have decided to end the killings, but did not,' it answered, 'we give the responsibility of choice back to you – this time, you will not decide the fate of our brethren, but of yours, and your own.'_

'_Then I accept service', Marla replied. 'What must I do? How will I tell the others?'_

'_We will inform them.' It said. 'Each of you who murdered us and still live shall be individually called on to pay their part. Each of you will know what they must do. As will you. Now,' it said, 'you will begin your first task. After you have received your orders, we will return your mental processes to its normal speed.'_

-o0o-

"That's strange," the Doctor said. "Suddenly, she seems to be calming down … her neural activity is becoming more regular, and the feedback has almost stopped … her brain's beginning to settle into something more like a normal REM pattern now."

"I wonder what she could be dreaming of, right now?" Janeway mused.

"She's not merely dreaming," he replied, "See her brain activity map? There's a lot of electrical concentration in the sections dealing with concrete memories. That's no ordinary dream; she's reliving an actual experience as if it was one!"

-o0o-

_As the Captain rummaged through a series of safes and cabinets, Marla Lessing noticed a partly opened storage space under a console – exactly where the angel had told her it was. Quietly, she crouched down, and grabbing the panel, prised it fully open. Pulling another bag out of her overalls, she began grabbing handfuls of the datachips that were stored there, and stuffing them inside it. She kept going until the cabinet was fully empty, and then – as quietly as she could – she closed it properly._

_When the Captain returned to give her his new orders, she was still standing in exactly the same spot, looking just as ready to do whatever he told her to._

-o0o-

"Well," the Doctor said, "I'm sorry I couldn't get her conscious enough to help you much."

"Your first duty is to her care," Janeway replied, looking at Marla – who was now sleeping peacefully on the biobed. "You did what you should. But this incident might have answered a few questions that I had … though in the process it's also raised quite a few more."

"Meaning …?" The Doctor asked, as he put away his instruments.

"Meaning that I expect to see _you_ for dinner tonight," she said, "…unless, of course, you have _other_ pressing commitments …"

"I was planning on working on one of my papers, and later paying a visit to some of my fellow photon-folk in _Voyager_ ..."

Janeway cocked an eyebrow.

"That boof-headed, beer-juggling ex-boyfriend of yours hasn't been flapping his mouth around _again_, has he?" he said, warily.

"I won't say." She said, "… but, off the record, … if what I've heard from _various_ sources is right, Doctor … then I must commend you on your taste. She sounds like quite an interesting and intelligent person. Who programmed her?"

The Doctor tried to glare at her, but something in his demeanour told her she was right on the mark.

"Your old mobile emitter still works, doesn't it?" she said. "Why not bring her along to dinner tonight? I'd love to meet her."

-o0o-

_AN/ "Pay" instead of "Play" is intentional._


End file.
